


Havennatural

by TRDowden



Category: Haven - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-05-10 03:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRDowden/pseuds/TRDowden
Summary: Sam and Dean get wind of supernatural happenings in a small town in Maine, and decide to investigate...





	1. Chapter 1

_** Havennatural ** _

 

_This is my first swing at writing in a very long time. Also my first  real swing at combing two shows I love—Haven, my long-term relationship, and Supernatural, one I’ve recently come to love._

 

(Apologies for the first chapter being so long!)

 

_Sam and Dean hear tales about a small town in Maine, and decide to investigate…_

 

* * *

 

 

Sam was researching, as usual, and Dean was reclined on the couch, polishing off the last of his beer.

  
Sam’s face furrowed, and he leaned closer to his laptop.

  
“Hey Dean, so get this,” he said.

  
“Get what?” Dean muttered, wondering if there was any leftover chili in the fridge.

  
“I’ve been reading about this town in Maine—a place called Haven,” Sam read aloud. “Town suffered a massive gas line rupture during an intense Northeastern storm.”

  
“Damn. Anything left of the place?” Dean asked.

  
“Yeah, says they’re pulling themselves back together. Man, a _lot_ of people died,” Sam replied. “But here’s the thing—there’s all these online conspiracy theories about this place.”

  
“Like what?”

  
“Like people having supernatural powers—controlling weather, shape-shifting, wendigos, you name it,” Sam mused, his fingers continuing to click at the keyboard.

  
Dean lifted his head off the couch.

  
“Dad or Bobby never mentioned the place. You think this explosion or whatever was some massive demon deal-collection?”

  
“I don’t know what to think,” Sam replied, continuing to type. “According to one of these sites, Haven was allegedly like a town-sized safe house for people with supernatural abilities. Dean, I don’t understand how we’ve never heard of this place.”

  
“There’s nothing in the Men of Letters files?”

  
“Nothing I’ve found so far.”

  
“Think it’s worth checking out?” Dean questioned.

  
“Couldn’t hurt,” Sam said.

* * *

 

Early the next morning, Sam and Dean loaded the car, and started their journey.

  
The following evening, they arrived on the outskirts, passing a sign that read _Welcome to Haven, Maine._

  
All around the brothers, they could see the evidence of rebuilding going on—homes and businesses in various states of repair, or being razed due to heavy damage.

  
“Man, between the storm and the explosion, it really did a number on this place,” Sam murmured.

  
“Yeah,” Dean grumbled. “Look, you start at the library and I’ll start with the local yokels, see if we can find out what’s going on.”

  
Sam agreed, and set off for the library, and Dean made his way into the police station. It too, seemed to be undergoing renovation, judging by the cracks running up the walls that were currently being spackled over and repainted.

  
“Excuse me, Officer—Bannerman?” Dean read from the ID tag on the police officer’s shirt, and held up his badge. “Agent Plant, I’d like to speak to your boss, if I could.”

  
“You want to talk to the Chief? Why?” the officer asked. Was it his imagination, or was the guy suspicious, Dean pondered.

  
“We’re here to investigate about this explosion,” Dean said in his best authoritative voice, but clearly, Bannerman wasn’t biting. Normally, small-town cops went out of their way to accommodate the FBI.

  
“Explosion happened, we’re rebuilding. Nothing to investigate,” Stan replied, his face calm, his tone polite but Dean detected a deep suspicion beneath it. He could read it in the man’s eyes, his body language, and he began to wonder what the hell was going on.

  
“Chief’s out at the moment,” Stan continued. “If you’d like to leave your card, I’ll make sure he gets it.”

  
“Do that,” Dean replied, and departed.

 

* * *

 

A short time later, he caught up with Sam, heading out of the library, and quickly climbed into the Impala.

  
“What gives with this place?” Sam said upon closing the door. “Like everybody in town is in on some big secret, but they are not talking, that’s for sure.”

  
“Yeah, I had a cop pretty much tell me to buzz off at the station, gave me some song and dance that the Chief was out at the moment,” Dean told him. “Flashed the badge and he just looked at it like I got it out of a gumball machine.” He shook his head. “Whatever went down here, they’re keeping pretty quiet about it.”

  
“So what do you think?”

  
“I don’t know,” Dean said. “Man, Sammy, _something_ happened here, something major, and I don’t mean just an explosion either. We need to find out.”

 

* * *

  
After a long and fruitless afternoon of questioning the locals, the brothers stopped at a diner called The Gun and Rose, and slid into the back booth.

  
Although the sun was beginning to set, it was still light enough out for Dean to see a vintage blue Ford Bronco pulling into the driveway, and a youngish man wearing a Haven PD jacket emerge from it.

  
He entered the diner, and spoke briefly with the waitress, who gestured towards their booth.

  
“Heads up,” Dean mumbled as the man approached them.

  
“You Agents Plant and Page?” he asked. “I’m Chief Wuornos.”

  
“Chief,” Dean greeted cautiously.

  
“I understand you’ve been going around asking questions about the explosion," Nathan began, his expression polite but they could see a quiet intensity behind his eyes. 

  
“That’s right,” Dean replied.

  
“I called and checked with the FBI—they’ve never heard of you,” Nathan continued. “So how about we start with who you two really are. Why are you asking about what happened here in Haven?"

  
“Why are you trying so hard to hide what happened here?” Sam asked in a low tone of voice.

  
“Because these people in this town have been to Hell and back and we’ve earned our peace and quiet,” Nathan replied, and unfastened the snap on his holster. “So you can tell me your names here or back at the station, we can do this either way.”

  
After a tense silence, Dean nodded.

  
“Pull up a chair, Chief,” he gestured, and the man retrieved a chair from an empty table, and drew it up to the booth.

  
“I’m Dean Winchester—this is my brother, Sam,” Dean began, Sam nodding acquaintance.

  
“My first name's Nathan,” he answered. “Why are you here asking questions?”

  
“What are you trying to hide?” Sam asked. “There was no explosion, was there?”

  
Nathan gazed at him a few moments, his expression stoic.

  
“Look, if it was something—out of the ordinary—we can help,” Dean told him. “We kind of specialize in it.”

  
“You’re not some paranormal group, are you? We’ve had no end of problems with them.”

  
“You mean like Ghost Facers? Not a chance,” Dean snorted derisively.

  
“Who?” Nathan questioned, his face puzzled.

  
“Amateur ghost hunters,” Dean waved dismissively. “We’re hunters too, but we’re not amateurs.”

  
“Look, I think what Dean’s trying to say, Chief Wuornos, if you’re still having problems, maybe we can help,” Sam explained kindly.

  
“That’s all over with,” Nathan told them. “We solved our—Trouble,” he finished, with a slight catch in his voice.

  
“I’m almost afraid to ask how you solved your problem,” Dean muttered, imagining the worst; because it usually turned out to be exactly the case.

  
“What really happened, if you don’t mind us asking,” Sam told him.

  
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

  
“Try us,” Dean said.

  
“No, seriously, you wouldn’t believe me,” Nathan answered, gesturing for the waitress. “Coffee please, Josie,” he told her and Josie scampered off, returning shortly with a steaming mug. “Now, you said you were—hunters?”

  
“We’re—hunters of the supernatural and paranormal,” Dean said quietly. “There is very little we haven’t seen, heard, or done, believe us."

  
“And we’re not here to exploit your misfortunes, we just wanna help if we can,” Sam assured him.

  
Nathan took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the heat.

  
“Still forget about that sometimes,” he said more to himself than the brothers. “What did you hear about Haven that brought you here in the first place?”

  
“That the town was acting as some kind of supernatural safe house,” Sam said.

  
Nathan nodded. “Haven was pretty much exactly that for about 500 years,” he began. “Haven was a place where if you had supernatural afflictions, as you said—you’d move here and you could live a fairly normal life. Most times.”

  
“Most times,” Sam repeated. “What does that mean?”

  
“There was a 27-year cycle. Every 27 years, the—afflictions—we called them Troubles—would return.”

  
“So what happened to change all that?”

  
“A lot of things,” Nathan answered softly. “They—the Troubles—would run about a six-month to a year-long cycle, and then disappear again for another 27 years.”

  
“Like what kind of Troubles?” Dean asked.

  
“We had a woman who could control the weather.”

  
“We’ve seen that,” Dean replied.

  
“How about a wendigo?”

  
“Killed a few in our time,” Sam said offhandedly, and Nathan blinked at him.

  
“Really,” he said. “We had a serial killer skinwalker.”

  
“Was it a skinwalker or a shapeshifter?” Sam questioned. “They seem similar, but they’re not.”

  
“This woman had to wear the skin of other people because hers fell off,” Nathan said, and both Sam and Dean looked shocked. “Look, can we discuss this elsewhere?” he asked, glancing around him. “We’re trying not to run our new residents off. Town’s hurting bad enough as it is.”

  
“Where would you like?” Dean asked.

  
“Someplace with alcohol,” Nathan sighed. “Also, there are a couple of other people who could help me explain all this to you.”

  
“Not really the reaction we got around town,” Sam pointed out.

  
“Look, all I want to do is set your minds at ease that we don’t require your sort of services anymore,” Nathan told him. “It’s a place called The Grey Gull. Used to belong to—a friend,” he finished, and for a moment, his eyes brightened.

  
Sam and Dean both knew that look—the look of someone who’d lost more than his fair share of family, friends, and friends who were like family along the way, and they nodded agreement.

  
“Sounds great,” Dean said.

  
Nathan nodded, and rose from the table, leaving a few dollars for the coffee and tip, and departed.

  
“Dude, I never heard of somebody having to wear human skin because theirs fell _off,_ ” Sam whispered. “Maybe we should call Cas in on this one.”

  
“Only if we have to,” Dean said. “The guy’s willing to answer questions, but the answers ain’t gonna come easy if he needs a drink to do it.”

  
“Most of our answers never come easy either,” Sam replied.

 

* * *

  
They found the place easily enough, and after asking the bartender, was pointed out to a fire pit overlooking the water, where they found Nathan, along with a large muscular blonde-haired man and an older woman.

  
Nathan rose as they approached the group.

  
“Sam and Dean Winchester, this is Dwight Hendrickson, and Dr. Gloria Verano,” he introduced.

  
Dwight eyed the pair suspiciously. He’d put in a call after Nathan’s text, and found out enough about the Winchesters to know that when they showed up to town, people had a way of dying.

  
“What brings you boys to Haven?” Dwight asked without preamble. “I heard you were all over town asking questions.”

  
“We’ve been hearing stories about this place,” Sam began.

  
“I’ve told them a little of what went on,” Nathan put in, and woman looked at him critically.

  
“Have you flipped your lid?” she asked. “Talking about the Troubles to _strangers_?”

  
“I asked around about you guys,” Dwight put in.

  
“What’d you hear?” Dean asked his tone casual.

  
“Enough to know that people tend to die when you show up,” Dwight said succinctly, and then relented. “I also heard enough to know that you seem to know what you’re doing when it comes to the weird and unusual. So if Nathan wants to talk to you about what happened, I’m in. Rather you hear it from us than the internet.”

  
“I’ll reserve judgment for the moment,” Gloria answered, taking a swig or her drink.

  
“So you said Haven was a sort of safe house for these—Troubles, you called ‘em,” Dean began, and the three opposite him nodded.

  
“It was a well-kept secret—so well-kept in fact, that most of the town didn’t really know about the Troubles, till the fog shroud happened,” Dwight stated. “We wanted Troubled people to have to same right to a decent life, the same as any normal person would.”

"Like Garth and Beth," Dean mumbled, and Sam nodded agreement.

  
“How’d you keep a lid on that for so long?” Sam questioned.

  
“We had our newspaper, was run by two brothers, Dave and Vince Teagues,” Nathan told him.

"The Haven Herald," Sam said. "I read back as far as I could in the archives."

"They could be pretty creative with some of the cover-up stories," Nathan noted.

  
“Sometimes,” Gloria said. “Other times, I think they were phoning it in.”

  
“They did have a lot going on, to be fair,” Nathan told her.

  
“At first, the stories were believable—but there were an awful lot of quote-unquote, ‘gas leaks’ towards the end,” Sam replied.

  
“I used to think so too. In the end, though, all the gas-leak stories helped push the explosion story,” Nathan explained.

  
“I-I’m still kind of tripping out about your skin-wearing serial killer,” Sam put in.

  
“Arla Cogan,” Dwight stated.

  
“Believe it or not, there were even worse Troubles than hers,” Nathan told them.

  
“There really isn’t much that can shock us anymore,” Dean replied. “We’ve fought against werewolves, rougarous, Greek gods, witches, djinns, vampires, demons, angels—“

  
“Demons,” Dwight repeated. “You mean like, Lucifer and the hoary netherworld type demons?”

  
“I know that sounds crazy to regular people,” Dean muttered. “But yeah, real honest-to-God, pardon the expression, demons.”

  
“We never said we were _regular_ people, Green Eyes,” Gloria quipped, and gave Dean a wink, who smiled slightly.

  
Nathan chuckled and took another swig of his beer.

  
“You said you fought angels?” Dwight asked, astounded. “Aren’t they all like God’s messengers of peace and light and stuff?”

  
“Yeah, you’d think that, but no,” Dean sniped. “Angels are some of the biggest jack—“

  
“Well, let’s say not all of them are good guys.” Sam quickly interrupted his brother. “Except for maybe Cas.”

  
“Cas?” Nathan asked.

  
“Short for Castiel,” Sam told him. “But—we came to hear about you guys’ issues, not tell you about ours.”

  
“Well, as I told you at the diner, our issues are done with,” Nathan began slowly. “Although it sounds as though you’ve had nearly as many as we have,” he answered, a faint smile. “We had someone who could revive the dead, another person could cause earthquakes, one girl’s touch could make anything explode—“

  
“That was gruesome,” Dwight muttered into his beer glass.

  
“Yeah,” Nathan answered, and glanced at Dean. “You said you fought a wendigo?”

  
Sam and Dean nodded. “Several.”

  
“Ever fight a—shadow that could kill people?” he asked.

  
“Gone up against a couple of wraiths,” Dean said. “And when demons leave people they’ve possessed, they smoke out. Is that what you mean?”

  
“Not quite,” Nathan said. “Ever—time traveled?”

  
“Several times,” Dean said. “You?”

  
“Twice,” Nathan told him. “A guy had a trouble that could send people back in time.”

  
“He wasn’t a witch?” Dean asked.

  
“No, he was just an ordinary guy who happened to have a supernatural Trouble,” Nathan explained. “Many Havenites were in the same situation. Dwight and myself were Troubled as well,” he continued.

  
“What was your problem, um, Trouble, Chief?” Dean questioned.

  
“I couldn’t feel. At all,” Nathan replied. “Cuts, burns, punches, bullet wounds, couldn’t feel any of it.”

  
“Lucky bastard,” Dean muttered into his glass.

  
“Not really, it sucked,” Nathan said. “Hard to walk when you can’t feel your feet. And years of it meant injuries that didn’t hurt then, but I can tell where they were these days.”

  
“Ho-ho, just wait till you get to be _my_ age, Kid,” Gloria warned ominously. 

  
“What was your Trouble?” Sam asked Dwight.

  
“I was a bullet magnet—any gun that went off within 100 yards of me, the bullet would veer towards me,” Dwight told him.

  
“Damn,” Dean stated. “And we thought we had it bad.”

  
“Yeah,” Dwight nodded briskly. “But as Nathan said, that’s all over with now.”

  
“So nobody had like multiple powers or anything like that,” Sam inquired. “Multiple—Troubles, as you call them.”

  
Nathan’s face grew sad. “Only one guy had multiple Troubles.”

  
“Well, Duke only had the one Trouble—all the rest he collected,” Dwight pointed out.

  
“What do you mean, he collected?” Sam asked.

  
“Duke’s Trouble was that he could eradicate a curse from a Troubled person’s family,” Nathan began. “The only catch to that solution was that he had to kill a member of their family. He was sort of a Trouble storehouse. Only we didn’t know that at the time.”

  
“Was he a demon?” Dean questioned.

  
“No, he was not,” Nathan stated firmly, and then relented, chuckling ruefully. “If you’d asked me that five years ago, I’d have probably told you yes. But no, Duke was not a demon.” He blinked hard. “He sacrificed himself to end the Troubles.”

  
“He saved this town, Nate,” Gloria said softly, and touched his leg. “You all did.”

 

* * *

 

They talked a while longer, and then as it was late, Nathan directed them to the Over the Way Inn, and the brothers made to bunk down for the night, intending on leaving in the morning.

  
Dean had just come out of the shower, when he noticed the lights in the bathroom flickering, and Sam’s urgent call of “Dean!”

  
Dean stepped out of the bathroom, gun at the ready, seeing Sam wide-eyed by the table in the room, lights flickering madly.

  
He exhaled, seeing his breath fog in front of him.

  
“Ghost,” Sam said, looking around wildly.

  
“Show yourself!” Dean barked at the room, and suddenly there was a man standing near the doorway.

  
“There!” Sam shouted, and Dean fired, rock salt embedding itself into the wall and the figure dissipated.

  
“All over with, the man says,” Dean grunted.

  
“Yeah, right,” Sam answered, as the room warmed up and the lights stopped twitching. “That doesn’t seem like it’s all over, does it?”

  
“Well, you wanta tell him or shall I?” Dean nodded at the window, where the Bronco was pulling up outside, along with a large black vehicle that Dwight emerged from.

  
Sam opened the door to admit a very angry Nathan.

  
“First all the questions around town and now you’re shooting up the hotel? What gives?” he demanded angrily. “I oughta run you guys in.”

  
“We saw an intruder,” Dean defended.

  
“You shoot at all your intruders with rock salt?” Dwight asked, inspecting the salt-speckled paneling.

  
“We do the ghostly ones,” Dean answered. “And this was a ghost.”

  
“There’s never been a report of hauntings here at Over the Way,” Nathan told them.

  
“M-maybe from shipwrecks from long ago or something,” Sam said helpfully. “He was kinda dressed like a sailor, from what we could tell.”

  
Dwight looked at him curiously.

  
“How like a sailor?” he asked. “What’d he look like?”

  
“We just saw him for a second,” Sam stated. “He was a young guy, dark hair, I guess dark eyes. He was wearing a black coat, like a pea coat that sailors wear.”

  
“He have a goatee?” Dwight questioned.

  
“Yeah—looked like some kind of hipster ghost,” Dean said, and the lights flickered again.

  
Dwight paled, and said something inaudible to Nathan, who looked stricken; and then reached for his wallet. He took out a picture, and handed it to Dean.

In the photo, Dean saw a man in his thirties, dark hair and eyed, who looked very much like the spectre he'd just witnessed.

  
“Did he look like that?”

  
“Yeah, that’s him,” Dean said. “Who is he?”

  
“His name’s Duke, or was, Duke Crocker. We told you about him.”

  
The lights flickered again.

  
“What—what’s going on with the lights?” Nathan asked.

  
“When a spirit is trying to manifest itself, it draws energy from its surroundings, lights, the room might get colder,” Sam explained, as the lights returned to normal.

  
Nathan looked stricken.

  
“Any idea what he wants?” Dean asked. “Although I don’t suppose he’s going to be in a big hurry to try manifesting again after our reception.”

  
Nathan looked as though he were about to cry, and Dwight put a hand on his shoulder.

  
“It’s not your fault, Nate,” he said gently.

  
“What’s not his fault?” Sam questioned. “That may be why Duke is trying to make contact. Where was he buried?”

  
“At sea,” Dwight replied.

  
“Well, that’ll make torching his bones difficult,” Dean remarked, and Nathan looked at him as though Dean had slapped him.

  
“Why would you want to do that?”

  
“It’s one way to put a vengeful spirit at rest,” Sam explained. “You salt and burn the remains.”

  
“I wouldn’t let you do that to Duke even if he _was_ buried on land,” Nathan said angrily. “No, it’s my—“he choked. “It’s my fault he’s restless.”

  
“Why would you say that, Chief?” Dean interrogated.

  
“Because I killed him,” Nathan finished in a whisper.

  
“Nathan,” Dwight put in quickly, eyeing the Winchesters’ expressions. “You did the only thing you could do. It was the right thing to do, even Duke knew that.”

 

“I’m sensing there’s more to the story here,” Dean spoke. “Look—we’ve been in the same situation. We know what it is to have to sacrifice people for the greater good—good people,” he went on in a gentler tone. “And I know he was your friend. And if you’re a friend to him, then let us help you figure out how to put him at rest. The longer he remains here, the worse he’ll become.”

  
“You said he was a—vengeful spirit?” Nathan asked. “Like a poltergeist?”

  
“Poltergeists are often the result of vengeful spirits—souls who can’t or won’t cross over and they’re frustrated by it, and it just gets worse for them over time,” Sam told them. “They don’t even remember why they’re still here, they’re just—anger and rage, that’s all that’s left.”

  
“How do we help him?” Nathan asked Sam. “I don’t want Duke to hurt anymore. He had enough hurt for three lifetimes. He deserves his peace.”

  
“Well, one, we have to figure out what’s holding him here—it could be an object--“ Sam began. “Or it could be you holding him here.”

  
“Me?”

  
“He might feel like he’s got unfinished business with you.”

  
“What can we do to remedy the situation?” Dwight said.

  
“Let us get hold of someone we know,” Dean replied. “We’ll try to make contact with him and see what this Duke soul has to say.”

  
Nathan and Dwight departed, promising to be in touch early the next morning, and after a few precautionary sigils and a thorough salting of the room, Sam and Dean bedded down for the night.

 

* * *

 

Elsewhere in Haven, a lone figure stood on the beach in the full moonlight, drawing spellwork into the sand.

  
He gestured, and the sigils flared into light.

  
“Come forward,” he spoke, his voice’s rich timber echoing. “Come forward—Duke Crocker.”


	2. 2

_**2** _

 

Early the next morning, Nathan got a call out to the beach.

  
"What is all this?" Rebecca Rafferty was asking, gesturing to the sigils sketched in the sand, with a large glassy whitish spiky stone sticking straight up in the middle of it all. "I've seen satanic ritual stuff before, but I have no idea what all this stuff is."

  
"Not sure either," Nathan muttered, looking at it. "But I know of a couple guys in town who might have some idea of this."

 

* * *

  
Dean was just polishing off the Hungry Man Special at the Gun and Rose when Sam's phone rang.

  
"The police chief," he said, and pressed RECEIVE.

  
"Chief Wuornos," he greeted, hitting the speaker. Dean rolled his eyes.

  
"Got something you guys might be interested in seeing," Nathan remarked over the speaker.

  
"What is it?" Dean asked.

  
"I'm hoping you can tell me," Nathan replied. "Got a spot on one of our beaches, looks like someone's held some kind of ritual here. But the symbols aren't like anything I've ever seen before. Thought maybe it might be something in your--line of work."

  
"Can you send us a pic?" Sam questioned.

  
"Yeah, hang on," Nathan said, and a few moments later, the first runes appeared, and both brothers stared at it.

  
"That's Enochian," Dean stated. "Chief, where's this beach of yours, we'd like to see this for ourselves."

  
"Edgewater Beach," was Nathan's answer. "It's just off the highway, turn past Benton Road, and it's right there, can't miss it."

  
"All right, we'll be there soon," Sam finished and hung up. He looked at Dean.

  
"So which angel's here in Haven casting spells?" he asked his older brother.

  
"Well, there's one guy we can ask," was Dean's answer, as he paid the tab and headed for the door.

 

* * *

  
A short time later, the Impala crept to the edge of the shoulder where the road met sand and came to a stop. They could see the police tape stretched across the entryway to the beach, and the same guy that Dean had spoken to at the police station was doing his best to keep curious onlookers away.

  
"What's going on? Are the Troubles back?" one man was asking rather anxiously.

  
"No, no," Stan was reassuring the crowd. "Just a high-school prank, nothing to see here," he continued, glancing at Sam and Dean.

  
Nathan caught Stan's eye and nodded, and Stan waved them under the tape, where they headed over to Nathan.

  
"Fulgurite," Sam said, seeing the glassy rock. "Happens when lightning hits the sand, super-heats it."

  
"I've seen fulgurite strikes before, but all this--" Nathan gestured at the runes. "Never seen that."

  
"This is Enochian," Dean told him.

  
"It's what?"

  
"It's Angel writing," Sam put in. "We've seen it before."

  
"I don't suppose you can read it, can you?" Nathan questioned. “Or know what it means?”

  
"No we don’t, but we put in a call to someone who could translate it," Dean told him.

  
Nathan drew closer and lowered his voice.

  
"Have you talked to your--friend--about what we talked about last night? About--Duke?"

  
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call Rowena a _friend,_ but yes, we've spoken to her. She'll be in town this evening," Dean promised.

Nathan nodded, and smiled slightly. "All we can do's try, right?"

  
"Right," Sam smiled, and Nathan walked over the tape to talk with the small crowd that had gathered.

  
"It's a resurrection spell," Cas said from behind them, and Sam and Dean both startled.

  
"Jeez, Cas, you can't just drop in like that in public!" Dean scolded quietly.

  
"We are out of view of the crowd behind this rock," Cas said, his eyes on the rune work that encircled the fulgurite.

  
"You said this is a resurrection spell," Sam said, moving closer. "Can you tell who drew this?"

  
"More important, who is it they're trying to resurrect," Dean growled.

  
"No, I cannot tell who drew it," Castiel said. "But it was a Principality angel."

  
"Those guys are right below Archangels in the Angel food chain, right?" Dean asked.

  
Cas nodded. "Very powerful in their own right. They're mostly caretakers and guardians of kingdoms and parishes, but they are also associated with transitions of power."

  
"So what kinda power is this principality guy trying to transition?" Dean interrogated.

  
"I don’t know," Cas stated. "But I will try to find out," he finished, and was gone in the blink of an eye.

  
Nathan headed back, and glanced around.

  
"Something the matter?" Dean said.

  
"I thought I saw you guys talking with some guy in a trenchcoat," Nathan puzzled, and shook his head.

  
Sam mimed tucking his phone back in his pocket.

  
"I sent your picture to our guy--he says it's some sort of an Enochian resurrection spell," Sam began. "Beyond that, he couldn't really tell much else from the picture."

  
"Well, why would someone want to resurrect an angel, I mean, angels don't die, right?" Nathan asked, and the brothers exchanged uneasy glances.

  
Nathan caught it, and began to ask what all that was about, when he heard a voice call from the edge of the tape.

  
"Nathan," he saw Paige waving.

  
"Hold on a minute," he told them, and went over to her.

 

"Hey," he greeted after a small kiss. "What are you doing here?"

  
"I was on my way to town to go grocery shopping and heard about the--whatever," she told him. "What's going on?"

  
"Nothing's going on," Nathan smiled.

  
Paige noticed Sam and Dean.

  
"Who are those guys?" she asked.

  
"Uh--Federal agents," Nathan fibbed. Paige remembered nothing of the Troubles or her previous existences, and Nathan had every intention of keeping it that way.

 

* * *

  
Dean craned his neck, watching Paige and Nathan.

  
"She's kinda hot," he remarked.

  
"Probably not a good idea hitting on the chief of police's girlfriend, Dean," Sam retorted, examining the fulgurite closer. Was he crazy _,_ or did he see a _handprint_ embedded in the crystal?

  
"Dean, look at this," he whispered.

  
Dean got down next to him, and Sam showed the spot to him.

  
"Look at that," Sam breathed. "There's the hand--arm, shoulder--if you look this way, you can see the outline of a body."

  
"Was somebody lying on the beach here when the lightning hit, you think?" Dean said.

  
"No, it doesn't look like somebody was encased in the fulgurite--it looks like somebody was pulled _out_ of it," Sam pointed out.

  
"What the hell's goin' on here, Sammy?" Dean asked. "And what's this place got to do with it all?"


	3. 3

_**3** _

 

Nathan and the rest of the gathered police force finished clearing away the runes and managed to wrangle the fulgurite into the back of Dwight's truck.

  
Dwight nudged Nathan.

  
"You get a close look at that thing?" he said in a low voice, nodding his head at the stone.

  
"You mean did I notice it looked like the outline of somebody in it? Yeah," Nathan answered. "I'm pretty sure they caught it too," he continued, nodding at Sam and Dean.

  
"You believe all that stuff they told us about fighting demons and witches?”

  
"We fought against all kinds of weird stuff too, Dwight. Just 'cause their version of weird is different than ours doesn't mean it didn't happen," Nathan pointed out. "But yeah--this is definitely strange."

* * *

 

Back in the Impala, Sam and Dean were having a similar conversation.

  
"I know he said the weird crap had stopped around here, but that fulgurite's telling a different story," Dean told his younger brother.

  
"Yeah," Sam exhaled. "Wish Cas'd hurry back and let us know what's goin' on upstairs."

  
"Well, right now, let's just go along and see what else is going on in this town. Rowena texted--she'll be in town around six or seven this evening, and maybe we can find out what's going on," Dean finished, and started the car.

* * *

 

In Saint Sebastian's, Tracy Rodgers was just finishing her Confessional, and stepped out of the little booth, and bumped into two men.

  
"Oh, excuse me," she began, looking up to see who she'd run into.

  
"Not at all," the first man said. He was strikingly handsome; smooth-shaven, blond, tall, with piercing blue eyes. The second man looked oddly familiar; she gazed at him for a moment before recognition set in.

  
_It was Duke Crocker._

  
"Duke," she breathed, staring wide-eyed at him. She stepped back, knocking over a small table. She grabbed at it to keep it from falling, and turned back to stare again, but both men were gone. The front door was some 30 feet away; there was no way they'd gone out that quickly, and there were no other exits in the relatively small church.

  
"Where did they go?" she asked Father Jacobs, just coming out of the Confessional.

  
"Where did who go, my child?" he asked.

  
"T-the two men," she babbled, feeling as though she were losing her mind.

  
"There's no one else here except Mrs. Hodgkins," he reassured her, gesturing to the little old woman. "Did you see two men, Mrs. Hodgkins?"

  
"I seen 'em," she said. "An' then I didn't. They just went--poof," she finished, snapping her fingers. "Durndest thing I ever saw."

 

* * *

 

Once the fulgurite was safely ensconced in one of Vince Teagues' old hiding places, Dwight ushered Sam and Dean into the bunker where they'd kept all their records of the Troubled.

  
"Wow," Sam said, gazing around at all the files.

  
"Not too far from our setup back home," Dean remarked. "Ours is a little bigger, though," he added with a swagger.

  
"There's two more levels down from here," Dwight replied. "Vince and Dave built this place to withstand whatever the Troubles could throw at it. It might look like a dump, but it's fortified like a bomb bunker."

  
"So what's the story with you and the lady at the beach?" Dean asked Nathan.

  
"That's Paige, my girlfriend. That's a long story," Nathan answered.

  
"Pretty serious?"

  
"Yeah, I'd say so. We're getting married in the spring," Nathan said.

  
"Took you long enough," Dwight smiled at him, and Nathan ducked his head slightly.

  
"Well, congrats," Sam put in, giving his brother a dirty look, who shrugged.

  
"Nathan hon, you there?" Laverne called over the walkie clipped to Nathan's belt.

  
Nathan retrieved it. "Go ahead, Laverne."

  
"Got something for you," she began. "Two more reports of fulgurite formations, both with that weird writing around them. People are gettin' antsy, Nathan."

  
Nathan looked at Dwight, Sam and Dean.

  
"All right, I'm on it, Laverne," Nathan exhaled, and put his radio back.

  
"Maybe your Troubles aren't as gone as you thought they were," Dean said slowly.

  
"Or maybe you're trying to bring them back," Nathan retorted sharply. "This stuff didn't start happening until _you two_ showed up!"

  
"Hey, we're not the cause of this!" Dean shot back.

  
"He does make a convincing case," Dwight remarked, one hand easing under a table where there was a concealed pistol, but Sam and Dean were quicker, all four men retrieving pistols.

  
"Put the guns down," Nathan ordered.

  
"You first," Dean said.

  
"This is not solving anything," Cas spoke, appearing suddenly.

" _Where the hell did you come from?_ " Nathan shouted, Dwight staring at Cas wide-eyed. "Who _are_ you people?"

  
Sam put his pistol down, showing his hands.

  
"This is Castiel," he began. "He's our friend. He's--also an angel. He's here to help us."

  
"Y-you mean all that stuff you told us--it's _true_?" Dwight whispered, his eyes riveted on Cas.

  
"It's all true, Dwight Hendrickson," Cas spoke. "I know of your Trouble--and of your daughter’s restoration to life."

  
"H-how did you _know_ that?" Dwight whispered. " _Nobody_ outside Haven knows that! Are you here to take her back to Heaven?" he asked, his voice rising, as he raised his pistol again, his eyes brimming.

  
"Man, I didn't think the big guy was gonna fall apart like that," Dean mumbled to his brother.

  
"No, I am not here to take Elizabeth away from you," Cas reassured him. "Don't be afraid, Dwight. But there is a matter that you should be concerned with."

  
"What's going on, Cas?" Dean asked, as though Nathan and Dwight weren't even there.

  
"An angel named Tabris is the one responsible for the resurrection spells," Cas began.

  
"Who was he trying to resurrect?"

  
"He is not trying, he has succeeded," Cas said severely. "Tabris is attempting to create new angels for Heaven."

  
"C-Can he do that?" Nathan asked. "And why here in Haven?"

  
"I believe he chose this place because of what happened here, Nathaniel," Cas told him. "He feels that this--aether substance, you call it--made the people who died of the Troubles' souls stronger."

  
"That's a whole lotta angels," Dwight got out.

  
"I thought only Chuck could create angels," Sam said.

  
"Who's Chuck?" Nathan blurted.

  
"God--he likes to be called Chuck," Sam confessed, and Nathan began to wonder if either he or the Winchesters were insane. Possibly both.

  
Dwight had begun to calm himself, and lowered the pistol.

  
"I've seen weird, I've done weird, I can handle this," he said more to himself than to the guy who'd just appeared from nowhere and knew all about his life. "Okay--why would this Tabris guy have to make angels out of the Troubled?"

  
"Is he trying to restart the Troubles?" Nathan asked Cas point-blank.

  
"I...believe he may be," Cas said slowly. "He thinks the Troubled's aether makes your bodies stronger--to be better vessels."

  
"Vessels? For what?"

  
"For angels to hitch a ride in," Dean stated bluntly.

  
"They take possession of a human," Sam translated.

  
"That what you did?" Nathan asked Cas. "You're riding around in some poor schmuck's body?"

  
"James Novak died a long while ago," Cas answered. "This form is my own."

  
"Well, while I'm trying to wrap my brain around all this, I want to get home to make sure Paige and James are safe," Nathan said. "This is the address," he went on, scribbling hastily on a torn piece of paper. "Bring your Rowena friend there and we'll see what's going on."

  
"We'll do that," Dean said.

* * *

 

A short while later, Sam and Dean watched as the small luxury jet taxied to a stop on the runway.

  
The hatch opened, and Rowena emerged, smiling sweetly at the man behind her.

  
"Thank ye for the ride, Antony," she smiled, and made her way down the stairs.

  
"So--what brings ye boys to this neck of the woods? To be honest, I'm surprised ye hadna made it here before now," she said to the three.

  
"Wait--you _knew_ about Haven?" Sam said.

  
"Course I knew about Haven," Rowena laughed. "I always thought it was one of Fergus' little projects gone wrong, but it wasn't. Some master spellcrafting to put all that together, if I do say so myself."

  
"Well, we ain't here to sightsee. Cas says there's an upper-level angel trying to make more angels out of people who died from these Troubles here," Dean stated.

  
"Hm," Rowena murmured. "Takes an awful lot of juice to make an angel, I would imagine. Who has that kind of power, Castiel?"

  
"His name's Tabris; I do not think he alone has that kind of grace. But if he were working with other Principalities and the use of the aether--it might be possible."

  
"What worries me is if he could come up with this idea--" Dean pointed out, and the car fell silent, thinking of the implications if a _demon_ decided to implement the same plan.

  
The rest of the ride passed in silence, the four gazing out of the window at the passing scenery as the sun dimmed out over the ocean.

  
They found Nathan's house easily enough, and went to the door, noting Dwight's truck was also parked outside.

  
Nathan met them at the door. Inside were Dwight, Dr. Verano, a red-haired man, and Paige, holding a small boy who looked to be about a year and a half old.

  
"Paige, this is Sam and Dean Winchester, and their friend Castiel," Nathan introduced her. "And--"

  
"Rowena MaCleod," Rowena announced, shaking hands with Nathan. "And who's your friends?" she smiled at Dwight. "I do like a man with a firm grip," she winked.

  
"I'm Dwight, this is McHugh, he's an old friend," Dwight answered, a little taken with the flame-haired beauty.

  
McHugh nodded his acquaintance, his eyes on Cas.

"So that's an angel, huh?" he said under his voice. "I somehow expected--something more."

  
"My true form is much larger," Cas said. "We occupy vessels because humans can't look at us. It would be like staring into a thousand solar eclipses."

  
"Bad news," Dean muttered. "Rowena, you ready to get this show on the road?"

  
"Give me a moment ta catch my breath," she said, turning back to Dwight, but Dean cut in.

  
"Spoiler alert-she's a witch and she's over three hundred years old," he said, and Dwight blinked in surprise.

  
"Oh, ye don't care for older women?" she smiled sweetly.

  
"My last girlfriend was over eleven hundred. She died," Dwight told her.

  
"I shouldn't wonder," Rowena deadpanned, somewhat taken aback by Dwight's statement. "Well, now, let's see," she went on, going to the dining room table. "We'll all want ta join hands," she continued, as everyone took their seats.

  
"What do we do?" Paige asked nervously. "Nathan, I'm a little scared."

  
"It's okay, honey," he assured her.

  
"Well, Kiddo and I will be in his room," Gloria stated, and carried James into the nursery, closing the door.

  
Nathan dimmed the lights, and slid in between Rowena and Paige, taking their hands in his.

  
Cas sat on the other side of Paige, his eyes fixed intently on her, and Dean noticed.

  
"What's so interesting?" he whispered.

  
"I will tell you later," Cas answered quietly. "But we need to watch out for her. Tabris will try to take her if he finds out who she is."

  
"Who is she?"

  
"The creator of the Troubles."

  
"What do you--" Dean began, but Rowena began her incantation.

  
"Oh spirits, we call upon ye to make yeself known to us," she called out. "What is the dear departed's name?" she questioned Nathan.

  
"Duke Crocker," Nathan said.

  
"We call upon Duke Crocker, make yeself known to us," Rowena called out, and the room grew chillier.

  
Nathan clutched at her hand a little tighter, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Would he be able to see Duke this time? Or would it be like before?

  
"Someone's coming," Rowena breathed, and then suddenly Billie appeared.

  
"Billie!" Dean exclaimed.

  
"Hello, Winchesters. Rowena," Billie greeted, as the assorted Havenites stared agape at the woman who'd suddenly materialized in the room.

  
"Who are you?" Dwight questioned.

  
"That's Billie--she's a Reaper," Sam told him.

  
"Reaper?"

  
"As in Grim Reaper," Dean told him.

  
"You've nearly made my acquaintance once or twice before, Dwight Hendrickson," Billie informed him, a tight-lipped smile at his look of surprise. "Quite a nasty little problem you had there for a while."

  
"I didn't call upon ye, Reaper," Rowena stated.

  
"I know, you were callin' for Duke Crocker," Billie replied. Well, I hate to spoil your fun, but Duke ain't on this side of the Veil."

  
"He has crossed over?" Cas asked.

  
"He hadn't crossed over, period. I was about to come and collect him myself when one of _yours_ showed up and snatched him back."

  
"Snatched him back to where?" Nathan queried.

  
"Back to here," Sam said. "Right?"

  
Billie nodded.

  
"Y-you mean he's _alive_? Duke's alive?" Nathan asked, hoping against hope. "Where is he?"

  
"How should I know? I don't traffic in the living," Billie snapped and was gone in an instant.

  
For a moment, the table was stunned. Nathan couldn’t believe it; _Duke was alive._

  
Dean broke the silence.

  
“Can you tell where Tabris is? Is he here or did he jet back to Heaven?” he asked Castiel.

  
“Tabris is not in Haven at present. But Duke is.”

  
“Where?” Nathan whispered.

  
“Not far from here,” Cas stated.

  
“Can you sense him? Is he an angel?” Sam asked.

  
Cas shook his head, puzzled. “I-am not sure what he is. He is not an angel, but he’s not exactly human either."

"Is he a nephilim?" Sam questioned.

"Nephilims are born, not created, you know that, Sam," Cas chided.  "We need to find him, but not before we protect her,” he gestured to Paige. “If I know what you did, then Tabris does as well.”

  
“W-What did I do?” Paige asked her eyes wide.

  
“She doesn’t know,” Nathan hissed at them. “She doesn’t _remember!_ ”

  
“Tabris will try to make her remember,” Cas said. “So that is why we must protect her against him.”

  
“Well, you and Rowena stay here and deal with warding the house,” Dean directed to Sam, who nodded. “Cas and I are gonna go find Duke.”

  
“I’m coming too,” Nathan stated.

  
“Could be dangerous,” Dean noted.

  
“I’m a cop—and Duke was my friend. He’s still my friend,” Nathan said fiercely. “I’m coming.”

  
“Then we need to go find him before Tabris returns,” Cas told them. “Now.”


	4. Chapter 4

_**4** _

 

 

"I don't understand what it is you're doing," Paige gasped as she watched Sam and Rowena spray-painting the windows and doors with strange-looking symbols.

  
"These are for your protection, dear," Rowena assured her.

  
"Well, what would I need protecting from?"

  
Rowena began to speak again, but Sam nudged her.

  
"Nathan says she doesn't remember anything from--before," he whispered.

  
"How could she not?" Rowena whispered back. "If I'd done magic like she's done, I'd be shouting it from the rooftops."

  
"Well, her witchy days are behind her, so need-to-know only, okay?" Sam prodded. Rowena bobbed her head in agreement.

  
"There's--some problem," Sam told Paige. "These are warding symbols to keep away--bad people."

  
"Bad people, my eye," Gloria grumbled, surveying the handiwork. "This whole thing stinks to high heaven."

  
She eyed Sam. "So what's your story, Stretch?"

  
"I don't get what you mean," Sam grunted.

  
"Oh yes, you do--you and your partner and your friend in the trenchcoat know a whole lot more than you're lettin' on, and Red here," she gestured at Rowena, "seems to be tied up in it too. What gives? I’ve been helping cover up weird crap in this town longer than you’ve been on this planet. I know hinky when I see it.”

  
"I'd like to know as well," Paige stated, her jaw set determined. "I'd like to know how Nathan's friend Duke is alive again. People don't just come back to life."

  
"Well, with the right application of--" Rowena began, but trailed off. "D'ye hear that?" she whispered.

* * *

  
"Turn there," Castiel gestured, and Nathan wheeled the Bronco to a stop in front of a darkened house.

  
"Easy now," Dean urged. "We don't know what we're walking into."

  
Nathan and Dwight nodded agreement, and the group proceeded slowly up the steps, finding the door locked.

  
Cas dropped his blade from his sleeve.

  
"Wicked-looking knife," Dwight mumbled.

  
"It is an angel blade," Cas said.

  
"So you guys use knives?"

  
"Heaven has many weapons," Cas stated. "He is through there," he pointed at a double set of doors that showed a sliver of orange light beneath them.

  
Nathan stretched out a trembling hand, and he and Dean cautiously eased the doors open.

  
The fireplace was lit, giving the room a faint glow. On the sofa, there was a form, huddled in blankets, and they drew closer.

  
"Duke?" Nathan called softly, getting no response.

  
Cas drew nearer, and knelt down, the figure huddling deeper into the couch.

  
"I will not harm you," he said gently. "We are here to help," he finished, pushing the blankets down to reveal a frightened-looking Duke, who was trembling as though he couldn’t get warm enough.

  
Nathan got closer, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

  
"Careful," Dean warned. "Just because he looks like your old friend doesn't necessarily mean it is him.”

  
"Duke? Duke, it's Nathan," Nathan said, his voice thick. "Do you remember?"

  
Duke looked up at them, and Nathan gasped. Duke's eyes were ringed with a silvery tinge.

"What's the matter with him, Cas?" Dean questioned. "It's hot as a furnace in here, and he's shaking like he's freezing to death."

  
"He's had Grace injected into him," Cas said. "We need to get him out of here."

  
Nathan wasn't listening to any of them. He reached out and touched Duke, who startled. He was warm and alive, and Nathan put his arms around him, holding him tightly.

Duke held still for the hug, but it seemed as though he weren't quite sure of who Nathan was.

He looked into Duke's eyes. "Do you remember me, Duke? Nathan Wuornos?"

"Nathan," Duke echoed, thinking. "I--remember you."

Nathan smiled and hugged him again. Duke caught a ragged breath, wincing at the pressure. Nathan, realizing he was injured, quickly let go.

  
"C'mon, Nate, I know you're glad to see your buddy, but we gotta go before this Tabris gets back," Dean urged, and he and Cas helped Duke to his feet.

  
"Can you walk?" Cas asked.

  
"Yes," Duke said, little more than a sigh.

  
They got him on his feet, and had nearly made it to the door, when two more specters from the past rounded the corner.

  
"And just where do you think you're taking him?" asked Kirk Bowers.

  
Nathan staggered visibly at the sight of the other person.

  
"Hello, Nathan," said Jordan McKee. "Long time no see."


	5. 5

 

 

"Jordan--Kirk," Dwight got out.

  
"Yes, we're back again," Jordan smiled, tight-lipped. "I'm afraid we can't let you take Crocker out of here. He's--important to the plan. You remember, that's what you used to tell me about him. That he was _important_ , while you and Nathan and Audrey let him run around _killing_ Troubled people," she continued, her voice gaining an edge.

  
"Lady, I don't give a _damn_ about your personal vendetta," Dean told her, pulling his gun.

  
Jordan tilted her head up defiantly.

  
"Go ahead, shoot--you won't kill us," she taunted.

  
For answer, Dean fired, hitting her in the shoulder, which glowed a brilliant white for a brief instant.

  
Jordan cried out, clutching at her shoulder, and Kirk came to her aid.

  
"Angel blade bullets," Dean said. "Next one's goin' where it's  _really_ gonna hurt, sweetheart. We're leaving."

  
Kirk seemed as though he were about to try to attack, but Cas moved to let Dwight take hold of Duke's other side and he stood behind them, his eyes shining bright blue, his outstretched wings seeming to cover a retreating Dean, Nathan and Duke.

  
The pair backed down reluctantly, knowing they’d be no match for a full-born angel.

  
"Cas, c'mon!" Dean called, and the four managed to get outside, pausing long enough for dean to scrawl a symbol on the door.

  
"They can't get out that way," he said to Dwight and Nathan as they hustled Duke into the Bronco.

  
"Drive," Nathan said, tossing the keys at Dean as he climbed into the back with Duke and Cas.

  
Dean hit the gas, and the Bronco roared up the road just as they saw Kirk emerge from the back of the house.

  
Cas stretched out a hand to Duke's forehead, and Duke shrank back against Nathan.

  
"I'm not going to hurt you," Cas told him. "I am just trying to alleviate your suffering."

  
"It's okay, Duke," Nathan soothed. "We got you, you're gonna be okay."

  
Duke seemed to relax a bit, and Cas placed his hand over Duke's eyes, and his trembling subsided gradually.

  
"Is that better?" he asked, and Duke nodded.

  
"What'd you do?" Nathan said.

  
"I helped to heal some of his injuries. The other two have been tormenting him," Cas replied, seeing the look in Duke's eyes.

  
"There was bad blood between Duke, Kirk and Jordan when they were alive," Nathan said. "I can see why they'd be taking it out on him. Still doesn't make it right, though."

  
"Why would Tabris resurrect Kirk Bowers?" Dwight was saying. "I thought angels were supposed to be pure of heart and thought and all that. And to be honest, Kirk was not any of those."

  
"My guess is he's making warriors," Dean spoke. "He wants fighters, not tree-huggers."

  
"Both Jordan and Kirk were fighters when they were alive," Dwight admitted.

  
"How did they die in life?" Cas asked.

  
"Well, Duke and Kirk had an altercation that Duke ended up killing him in, and Jordan was murdered by Duke's brother Wade," Nathan said.

  
"She claims that I shot her," Duke said softly. “And he said that I killed him. But I don’t remember it.”

  
"Damn, I can see why they don't like him," Dean commented. "But why is he so important? Were they injected with Grace, Cas?"

  
"I did not feel it in them. Not like he's been done," Cas said.

 

* * *

  
"Listen," Sam whispered.

  
Outside the house, they could hear an almost fluttering sound that was soon followed by an ear-splitting screech, making Rowena, Sam and Gloria clutch at their ears.

  
"What is that?" Paige cried, covering a crying James' ears.

  
"Sounds like Tabris has figured out he can't get in here," Sam told her.

  
The fluttering and screeching stopped, and an eerie silence settled over the house, interrupted only by James' fussing.

  
Rowena caught sight of movement on the front sidewalk.

  
"Sam," she whispered, gesturing.

  
Sam peered out through the curtain, seeing a well-dressed man standing on the sidewalk, glaring at the house. Suddenly, he seemed to hear something, and before Sam could blink, he was gone.

  
"He's gone," Sam said. "For now," he finished, as the Bronco squealed to a stop dangerously close to the house, and its passengers climbed out.

  
"Dean, the warding," Cas groaned, Duke wincing again.

  
"Sammy, we're comin' in!" Dean shouted, and Sam quickly scratched at the warding sigil on the door, quickly admitting everyone before repainting over the scratch.

  
"Duke?" Gloria said her eyes wide. " _Duke_?"

  
"Hi," Duke said faintly as Gloria put her arms around him and burst into tears.

  
Paige went over to Nathan.

  
"That's really him, huh?" she asked. Nathan nodded.

  
"That's him," he replied. He looked nearly ten years younger, and Dean smiled ruefully, remembering how he'd felt when it had Sam returned to life again, and his own resurrection, for that matter.

  
Nathan and Cas settled Duke by the fireplace. He glanced up, caught sight of Paige, and his face furrowed.

  
“Au-Audrey?” he breathed and Paige looked puzzled.

  
“No, I’m not Audrey,” she replied, and smiled slightly. “Although I’ve been told I resemble her a great deal.”

  
Duke looked at Nathan, his face questioning, and Castiel moved to the center of the room with Dean.

  
“Tabris is attempting to create new angels for Heaven out of people who died from the Troubles,” Dean began. “He’s resurrected three that we know of so far.”

  
“Who else has he resurrected?” Gloria asked, examining Duke.

  
“Jordan McKee and Kirk Bowers,” Nathan said. “They were at the house guarding Duke when we arrived.”

  
“Guarding him with their _fists,_ more like,” Gloria muttered, noting the bruises on Duke’s ribcage.

  
Cas turned to Nathan.

  
“I know that you said she doesn’t remember, but the time for keeping her in the dark about her past has come to an end,” he told him. “I know who she is. The fact that Tabris tried to attack while we were gone tells me that he knows as well. She needs to remember.”

  
“No,” Nathan said stubbornly. “The—person she was when she—she doesn’t exist anymore.”

  
“I know this,” Cas replied. “And we would not ask it of you if this were not serious,” he continued, gazing at Paige.

  
“We don’t know what will happen if she does,” Nathan argued. “This town can’t go through all that again.”

  
“Duke—has Tabris told you of his plans?” Sam asked Duke, who had managed to get to his feet despite Gloria’s protests. He had stopped shaking, and his eyes had returned to normal.

  
“Yes,” Duke said. “He told me what you’ve said—that he’s trying to make angels from these—Troubled—people?” he continued.

  
“Why is Tabris using Angelic Grace on you?” Cas questioned. He moved his hand over Duke’s head and torso. “He’s been warded as I did you,” he directed at Sam and Dean. “It’s extensive—and the way it is designed, it’s drawing its energy from the grace he was injected with. It seems to be trying to attach to the energy of the aether you hold.”

  
“I thought the Armory pulled all the aether away,” Dwight and McHugh protested.

  
“Duke—died before then,” Nathan said, remembering. “The way his Trouble worked, if a member of the Crocker family died, all the Troubles they’d absorbed into their bodies also died,” he explained to Sam and Dean. “We thought that’s what would happen with him when—“he trailed off.

  
“He said he needs me stronger than most,” Duke replied. “I-I’m not sure why. He told me he needed a leader.”

  
“He’s likely forming a garrison of angels,” Cas stated. “He’ll need a strong Second-In_Command.”

  
“I’m sure that went over well with Kirk and Jordan, finding out they’d have to take marching orders from Duke,” Dwight remarked.

  
“They did seem to have a problem with it,” Duke answered.

  
“Duke, what do you remember from—before?” Nathan asked.

  
“Not much,” Duke said apologetically. “Tabris did something to my head. It hurt—a lot.”

  
“You remember Paige from before,” Nathan put in. “Why not me and Dwight and Gloria?”

  
“Tabris has probably been surfing through his memories,” Dean rumbled. “He’d need him to remember her for identification.”

  
“Jordan and Kirk both remembered us,” Dwight said.

  
“But they did not have his emotional ties to the two of you. Tabris would want to erase that,” Cas told him. “I am guessing the three of you were extremely close. You were important to him, and he to you."

  
“We were close, and he was. He still is,” Nathan said softly. “So you don’t remember anything at all?”

  
“It’s—patchy,” Duke answered. “The more I am here with you and away from that place, I’m remembering.”

  
“Can you do anything to help him remember?” Sam questioned Cas.

  
“You know how that tends to work out,” Cas said.

  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” McHugh asked.

  
“Means it usually _doesn’t_ work out,” Dean stated. “It’ll either kill him again or fry out his hard drive.”

  
“Then why are you so keen for Paige to remember?” Nathan demanded.

  
“It’s different for her than him,” Cas argued. “His memory erasure was forced on him—hers was voluntary. We may be able to help her remember some of her past. But it would be wrong if I did not say there might be a risk.”

  
“A risk I’m not willing to take,” Nathan stated.

  
“It’s not your choice, Nathan,” Paige finally spoke, and turned to Cas. “Can you help me to remember?”

  
“I think that’s a task better left ta me, dearie,” Rowena smiled.

  
“I hate to say it, but she might be right,” Sam sighed.

  
The look on Sam’s face did nothing to assuage Nathan’s fears of what might happen if and when Paige remembered.


	6. 6

_**6** _

 

“How could you let someone take him away from you?” Tabris was raging at Kirk and Jordan as he attended Jordan’s shoulder wound. “Who were they?”

  
“Dwight Hendrickson and Nathan Wuornos, they’re cops,” Jordan groaned, gritting her teeth as Tabris dug the bullet out. “And two men I’ve never seen before. One of them was an angel.”

  
“What did he look like?” Tabris interrogated.

  
“Dark hair, blue eyed, looked like an accountant in that trenchcoat he was wearing,” Kirk began. “The other guy had short brown hair, green eyes, was bow-legged and bossy. He called the angel Cas,” he put in. “He came into town yesterday with a tall long-haired guy. They said they were Feds, but they weren’t.”

  
“Dean Winchester,” Tabris remarked. “This would make the angel with him Castiel. Dean’s brother Sam must be at the house. That explains the warding against my entering. And these,” he concluded, dropping the bullet onto a tray. “If they are here, we will need to step up our plan. You both know what this Audrey woman looks like, correct?”

  
Jordan and Kirk nodded.

  
“Then it is imperative that we retrieve her at the first opportunity,” he continued. “And we must get Duke back.”

  
“Why is he so important to you?” Jordan demanded. “I knew him—he’s a murdering lowlife. He _shot_ me!”

  
“I had hoped that you would rise above your petty human quarrels when you were restored, but I see I was mistaken,” Tabris commented. “I would strongly suggest that you work on that.”

  
“Angels don’t quarrel?” Jordan winced.

  
“Not over minor incidences such as that,” Tabris replied.

  
He healed Jordan’s shoulder. “So the Winchesters are in town,” he exhaled. “That will complicate things a bit.”

  
“Who are they anyway?” Kirk asked.

  
“They’re monster hunters and one of Heaven’s largest pains in the proverbial backside,” Tabris told them.

  
“Are they any good at monster hunting?” Jordan asked, rubbing her shoulder.

  
“Well, they have personally beaten Lucifer and stopped the apocalypse twice, so yes, I _suppose_ you could say they’re good at it,” Tabris conceded. “But the plan continues regardless of their presence.”

  
He thought a moment. “Perhaps what they need is a distraction,” he mused. “Who can you think of that might serve as one?”

  
“What do you mean?” Kirk asked.

  
“I need someone that can distract the populace. I’ll restore him, give him some small power, nowhere near to yours or Kirk’s, basic angel parlor tricks,” he waved at them. “But enough to convince humans that he’s been sent by divine intervention, and that they should turn over this Audrey person—and Duke.”

  
Jordan and Kirk looked at one another.

  
“I know just the guy,” Kirk said.

 

* * *

 

Brenda Hopkins was just finishing sweeping off the porch of the Good Shepherd Church, and went back inside to retrieve her son.

  
She noticed a man in black knelt down next to him, stroking his hair, and she hurried over.

  
“Excuse me, what are you—“she began, as the man stood up and turned to face her.

  
“Brenda,” the Reverend Driscoll smiled at her.

  
“Reverend Driscoll! How? Why?” she flailed, searching for an explanation. Kyle had died at the hands of Duke Crocker to end the curse of resurrecting the dead! How was he _here?_

  
“Do not fear, Brenda,” the Rev toned. “Your son is not the cause of my return. I have been sent by an Angel of the Lord to help in his holy crusade.”

  
He noticed the bandage on Brenda’s arm. “You hurt yourself,” he commented.

  
“I-I got cut bad on some broken glass a few days ago,” she stammered. “It took seventeen stitches to close it.”

  
Reverend Driscoll reached out and touched her arm.

  
“Your faith has made you well,” he told her. “Will you help me in ridding Haven of the pestilence of Audrey Parker?”

  
“A-Audrey Parker’s gone,” Brenda protested. “But—there’s a woman who looks like her. Her name’s Paige—Paige Harrison. She’s got dark hair instead of blonde, but she’s a dead ringer for Audrey Parker. She’s engaged to Nathan Wuornos.”

  
“It’s her,” the Rev said. “She changes her hair and her name, but it’s still _her_ underneath.”

  
“But the Troubles are gone,” Brenda protested. “They’re over with forever, they said.”

  
“They _never_ end, they just go dormant,” the Rev growled. “I was sent back by Heaven to end this once and for all. Do you think that Heaven makes mistakes?” he finished, his voice rising, and Brenda clutched at her ears. “Look at your arm, child,” he finished in a gentler tone. “And you will see that I am right.”

  
Brenda finished unfastening the bandage from her arm and could indeed see the sutures and the cut in her arm were gone, as though they’d never existed, and she looked up at Edmund Driscoll.

  
“Yes, I’ll help you,” she said.

* * *

 

Rowena busied herself gathering the items for her spell with Sam and Dean while, while Nathan and Paige had a reunion of sorts with Duke.

  
Sam watched them for a moment.

  
“They’re really happy he’s back,” he murmured to Dean. “Chief’s almost like a whole new guy.”

  
“Yeah, we know how that feels, getting back someone you thought was gone forever,” Dean said.

  
He turned his attention back to Rowena, who was just finished adding the last ingredient.

  
“Ready,” she said. “If you’ll have her sit there in the center of this lovely protective ring Samuel has drawn—you’re quite good at that, love,” she added, patting Sam’s cheek, and he rolled his eyes. “We’ll see what we can do to restore some of her memories.”

  
“Nathan says he’d rather she not do this, but I think he’s afraid of who she was when she made the Troubles,” Dean told them. “Dwight says she was a nasty piece of work, but supposedly, she’s gone. Let’s hope you don’t restore her.”

  
“Spell’s only going to reach back to who she was two years ago,” Rowena sighed. “But he’s right—the little I’ve been able to see, she was much like I used to be.”

* * *

  
Paige looked at Duke. She knew on an instinctive level, that she’d known him before, even though she’d only seen him in photos and a few home movies. She knew that he’d been Nathan’s dearest friend; and yet _somehow_ he was her friend as well.

  
“I’m glad you’re back, Duke,” Nathan said.

  
“I never left,” Duke replied. His memory had cleared somewhat once he was out of Tabris' grasp. “After the Armory was gone, I couldn’t make Dwight hear or see me anymore. No one could.”

  
“So you’ve just been here all this time, and we didn’t know,” Paige sympathized. “I’m so sorry, Duke.”

  
Duke patted her hand and kissed it. “You have nothing to be sorry for, A-Paige,” he replied gently, and smiled. “You look so much like her. I don’t mean to keep calling you Audrey.”

  
“It’s all right,” she smiled.

  
“Ready,” Rowena called. “If you’ll just sit yourself in that chair, we’ll get started.”

* * *

  
Near the docks, Castiel walked toward the man standing under the streetlight.

  
“Tabris,” he said.

  
“Castiel,” he replied pleasantly. “What brings you to Maine?”

  
“Tabris, what are you trying to do here?” Cas asked. “The people of this town have been through enough.”

  
“These people have made contact with a substance that enhances their bodies to a level that I believe could make them into angels, if it’s done properly.”

  
“Angels cannot be made out of humans or human souls, you know that,” Cas pointed out. “That's why so few of them can be vessels."

  
“ _Normal_ humans and their souls, no,” Tabris answered. “But I think that these enhanced humans, it’s possible. My first subject, the one you and the Winchesters took, is almost there.”

  
“Injected Grace doesn’t last,” Cas said. “I know Heaven’s numbers are dwindling, but this is foolish and dangerous. You have to stop this. The people you are resurrecting were not stable in life to begin with. I do not think it a good idea to use them.”

  
“Oh, so we’re not _worthy_ of being restored? Of being given a second chance?” Jordan asked, walking forward.

  
“No one is unworthy of redemption, Jordan,” Cas told her. “But only God or an archangel can create other angels. You are neither, Tabris.”

  
“Well, we shall see,” Tabris replied, his tone cold.

  
“Sam and Dean will stop you,” Cas stated.

  
“Sam and Dean are about to have their own worries,” Tabris chuckled.

  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cas demanded.

  
“You’ll see soon enough. Good night, Castiel,” Tabris replied and he and Jordan were gone in an instant.

* * *

 

“ _Recordare obsecro te qui eras_ ,” Rowena chanted, the items in the bowl beginning to glow with a purplish light. “ _Et meminisse me iubes—memoria revocate_!” she finished as the energy beams issued forth from Rowena’s hands and encircled Paige’s head.

  
Paige cried out and clasped her head in her hands.

  
“Stop it, you're hurting her!” Nathan said, going toward Paige.

  
“She’s all right, Nathaniel. It’s takin’ effect, give it a moment,” Rowena replied.

  
Paige looked up, her gaze landing on the people in front of her.

  
“What—where am I?” she mumbled. She glanced behind her, and saw an anxious Nathan.

  
“Nathan?” she breathed, and then caught sight of Duke. “ _Duke?_ ” she gasped, and got up and put her arms around him tightly, Duke clasping her closely.

  
“P-Parker?” Nathan whispered as though he were uttering prayer.

  
“Yeah,” she exhaled. “Or—I’m still Paige—but I can remember everything about being Audrey.”

  
“Son of a bitch, it worked,” Dean marveled.

  
“See, I _can_ do good with that book,” Rowena retorted.

  
Cas reappeared.

  
“Can you do that—come and go like that?” Nathan asked Duke.

  
“I could when I was a ghost,” Duke replied. “Now—I don’t know. They’ve been holding me at that house since I—rematerialized, for lack of a better word. I don’t know how.”

  
“Do you have any news on Tabris, Cas?” Sam questioned.

  
“I have spoken with him,” Cas said. “I have asked him to stop this plan he’s implemented, but he has no intention of doing so,” he continued. “He knows who you are, Paige, or who you really are—he needs you for the next phase of his plans, and he wants Duke back.”

  
“Why? Why is Duke so important?” Nathan demanded.

  
Cas studied Duke, Duke’s own brown eyes fixed steadily on him.

  
“I think it is because of the level of saturation you had with the aether,” Cas told them, more to Duke than the room. “I think he plans to combine the aether and Grace into converting you into an angel.”

  
“Would it work?” Dean asked.

  
“I am not sure,” Cas said. “But he needs the aether.”

  
“There is no aether—it’s gone, sealed off in the Void,” Paige spoke. “I remember that much.”

  
“That is why he needs Duke. The amount still harbored in his body and combined with Grace and the right spell—he could access the Void, releasing it.”

  
“He’ll restart the Troubles,” Dwight paled.

  
“And that’s bad,” Sam said slowly.

  
“It would be like opening Pandora’s Box,” Dwight protested. “It would be like an apocalypse—you got no idea of what that would be like.”

  
“I think we got a pretty good idea of what an apocalypse looks like," Dean said somberly.

  
“He wants to open a thinny,” Paige realized aloud.

  
“A _what_?” Dean said.

  
“A-a thinny—they’re thin spots between realities,” Dwight explained.

  
“We’re aware of thin spots in the fabric of alternative universes, been there, done that,” Dean said briskly. “So we stop Tabris from doing it. Question is how?”


	7. 7

_**7** _

 

As the night wore on, Sam and Dean checked the warding throughout the house once more, and Nathan and Paige did their best to make sure everyone was comfortable.

  
“I know it’s kind of small, but there’s a loveseat in James’ room you can sleep on, if you’d like,” she told Cas.

  
“Thank you, Paige, but I do not require sleep,” Cas told her. “You should rest,” he said kindly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do not fear; Sam and Dean are very good at what they do. No harm will come to you or your son.”

  
“And if it comes to having to deal with Tabris, Cas is no slouch either,” Dean added, casting a glance at Cas, who gave him a slight nod of thanks. “But like he said, they’re not getting in here to get anybody tonight.”

  
“Dwight, you and Dean will take first watch tonight,” Sam said. “Then McHugh and I will take over. Guys, you see anything out of the ordinary, give a yell. They might look like your old friends, but they’re not the same anymore.”

  
“I don’t know as I’d have called Jordan and Kirk friends,” Dwight said. “If they’re all jacked up on angel juice—“

  
“I do not think they’ve been given Grace—not to the extent your friend has,” Cas spoke, gesturing to Duke, who was grimacing as though he were in pain.

  
Nathan’s face furrowed, seeing Duke’s expression.

  
“Is it like before, Duke?” he asked.

  
“Before, what do you mean, before?” Dean questioned.

  
“When Duke’s Trouble was altered, it stirred up all of the Troubles that his family’s line had wiped out,” Nathan began. “If he didn’t release a Trouble, he’d have—exploded.”

  
“Ugh,” Dean said.

  
“I ended up exploding anyway,” Duke answered. “When I did, I Troubled pretty much most of Haven.”

  
“It got ugly—real ugly,” Dwight said his eyes on Duke. “That how this is feeling, Duke?”

  
“No,” Duke sighed, his face relaxing under Cas’ touch. “Thank you,” he said, looking up to Castiel. “This is—different. I can’t explain it—maybe you could?”

  
“It’s the warding on you—Tabris is trying to recall you to him,” Cas explained to Duke.

  
“What warding? There’s none of those funny-looking glyphs on him,” Dwight said, peering at Duke’s chest under his shirt.

  
“It’s—it’s etched into his ribs,” Sam told him. “Cas did Dean and I the same way when we first began working together. It’s sort of angelic protection.”

  
“It is not just his ribs,” Cas stated. “Tabris has warded him throughout his entire being. When he calls out to Duke, the sigils flare, and that is causing his discomfort. I fear it will continue to grow worse the longer you are out of his reach.”

  
“Can you change ‘em?” Dean asked and Cas shook his head.

  
“As I told you, Tabris is a Principality Angel,” he replied.

  
“Angels are angels, aren’t they?” McHugh said.

  
“There’s a hierarchy to angels,” Sam informed him. “Castiel is a warrior, a guardian type angel. Tabris is a Principality Angel; he’s a little higher up on the scale.”

  
“There is something else you should know about Tabris,” Cas said. “Tabris is also the Angel of Free Will.”

  
“Well, that’s—not good,” Dean replied.

  
“Why is that?” Paige asked.

  
“Means Tabris knows how to control and manipulate Free Will,” Dean told her. “Make you think you’re acting on your own, but you’re not.”

  
“Well, if he’s a higher angel than you, then what’s above him? Couldn’t you get one of those guys to get him to back off Haven?” Nathan asked.

  
Cas looked uncomfortable a moment. “The only angel higher than a Principality is an Archangel.”

  
“Archangels are the top of the angelic food chain,” Dean commented. “There’s not too many of them around.”

  
“Can you—I dunno—get in touch with one or something?” Nathan asked Cas. “I mean, don’t you all help each other?”

  
“There are two kinds of angels,” Dean said a bit harshly. “Those that want to help humanity, like Cas here—and those that want to wipe us off the face of the earth, because they consider us beneath them,” he continued. The ‘mud monkeys’ crack from Uriel still rankled him, even after all this time.

  
“We will do all we can,” Cas told the room.

  
“Is Duke on angel radio?” Sam asked him.

  
“Duke is being mentioned,” Cas said evenly.

  
“They’re probably watching to see if Tabris can pull off converting him into an angel. If he does—“Dean broke off. “Then we may have some serious problems ahead."

  
“Do I get a choice in the matter?” Duke finally spoke from his seat by the fireplace. “Or do I just get to sit and be quiet like a good little celestial science project?”

  
He stood up, and bent over again, groaning in pain.

  
Nathan and Cas began to reach for him when Duke straightened up again, and Nathan’s mouth dropped open when he saw what looked like the shadow of two wings spreading wide behind Duke before they faded from view.

  
“Cas?” Dean asked, a nervous twinge in his voice. “How 'bout it? Is he one of you now?”

  
“No, not fully,” Cas said, his eyes fixed on Duke. “But he is not far off,” he mused, and Sam and Dean’s faces looked worried.

  
Cas drew near to Duke again.

  
“Can you hear them speaking?” he asked him.

  
“Hear who?” Duke queried.

  
“Angels-can you hear them speaking? If you listen, you may be able to hear them.”

  
Duke closed his eyes, listening intently.

  
“Like—a buzzing sound,” he said at length. “Like a ringing in your ears when you’ve been listening to loud music too long.”

  
“That’s what it sounds like to most humans,” Sam told him, and an idea seemed to strike him. “Hey, Cas—do you think it could be possible that Tabris isn’t using just Grace on Duke?”

  
“What do you mean, Sammy?” Dean asked.

  
“I mean—what if Tabris is using Angel Blood,” Sam said, and Dean’s face dawned recognition.

  
“You mean like Azazel and Ruby did with you,” he said.

  
“You mean someone tried to turn you into an angel too?” Nathan asked Sam.

  
“Not quite,” Dean answered wryly. “You could say they were batting for the other team,” he finished, and Nathan’s eyes grew wide.

  
“It is entirely possible,” Cas said. “I don’t know why I did not see it myself. It could cause his cells to mimic angelic traits.”

  
“If he’s usin’ blood magic, we’re in some very deep waters here, boyos,” Rowena spoke from where she’d been poring over the book before her. “Maybe it’s time you let the professionals step up.”


	8. 8

_**8** _

 

_AU, in which Sam and Dean are set in around Seasons 11-12._

 

Around seven, Dean woke to the smell of bacon cooking.

  
He got up, wandering into the kitchen, where he found Paige cooking and James making a mess of his pancake.

  
“Good morning,” she smiled at him.

  
“Mornin’,” Dean grumbled, reaching for the coffee pot. It was strong and flavorful, and he savored it for a moment before swallowing. He looked out of the kitchen window, where he saw Cas and Duke deep in conversation.

  
“Did you sleep?” Paige asked.

  
“Couple hours,” Dean answered. “Any idea what the powwow out there’s about?” he gestured toward the window.

  
“No,” Paige said. “They were out there when I came in to start cooking breakfast. I imagine if it’s important, they’ll tell us.”

  
Dean shrugged it off and turned his attention to James, who looked up at him.

  
“Hey bud,” he greeted. “You’re makin’ a mess for your mom, pal. Want some help?”

  
He sat down and wiped James’ face and hands off, and proceeded to make airplane noises as he helped feed him. Paige stopped for a moment and watched them, smiling.

  
“You’re pretty good at that,” she remarked.

  
“I had to learn early—our mom died when Sammy was a baby. Our dad was a Hunter too, so it was on me to look out for little brother,” Dean said.

  
“I’m sorry,” Paige murmured. “That must have been so hard.”

  
“It was. But she’s back now, so Sam’s getting a chance to know her. She’s pretty cool,” Dean replied.

  
“You know, so many strange things happened in Haven, but I don’t think we have anything on you guys,” Paige said, shaking her head. “I’d love to hear all about it someday.”

  
Dwight’s truck pulled up and he quickly exited, heading for the door, where he was admitted by Sam.

  
“We have problems,” he announced. “It seems Tabris has been busy resurrecting other people.”

  
“Who’d he pull up now?” Nathan asked, finishing buttoning his shirt as the three made their way into the kitchen.

  
“The Reverend Edmund Driscoll,” Dwight stated flatly.

  
“Oh, you _gotta_ be kidding me,” Nathan said aghast.

  
Dean opened the back door and stuck his head out.

  
“Cas, you're gonna want to hear this!” he bellowed, and stuck his head back in just as Cas and Duke appeared in the kitchen.

  
“You did it,” Sam said to Duke. “You materialized yourself.”

  
“He helped,” Duke gestured to Cas.

  
“What’s happened?” Cas asked.

  
“Tabris has resurrected the Rev,” Dwight said, and Duke looked shocked at his statement.

  
“I take this Reverend guy wasn’t a big help in life,” Sam put in.

  
“Ed Driscoll was very anti-Troubled. He believed the Troubles were a punishment from God. He went nuts, for lack of a better term, tried to kill a Troubled teenage girl,” Nathan told them. “Audrey shot and killed him.”

  
“He was resurrected once before,” Paige spoke.

  
“I remember,” Duke said softly. “There was a guy named Kyle Hopkins-he had a Resurrection Trouble," he began. "People whose graves he dug would come back as ghosts. He was the first Troubled person I ever killed.”

  
“The Rev appeared to his widow; told her that he was brought back to finish God’s work,” Dwight said grimly. “He healed a bad cut on her arm.”

  
“Angels heal people, right?” Nate asked.

  
“Yes, they can. So can some faith healers, so do not think it is because he is an angel,” Cas replied.

  
“Makes sense he’d show himself to Brenda first then. And Kyle threw himself on the knife in your hand,” Nathan pointed out.

  
“Still doesn’t make it right, Nate,” Duke sighed.

  
“So where is Driscoll now?” Nathan asked.

  
“Good Shepherd, along with Tabris, Jordan and Dwight,” Dwight informed him. “He’s been ‘healing’ his followers of various ailments, and riling them up, telling them the Troubles are only dormant, not over. That until Paige is gone, they won’t be over. Oh, and that’s she’s ‘kidnapped a wounded angel and forcing him to do her bidding through her evil magic,” Dwight finished crooking his fingers to quotation marks.

  
“I bet I can guess who he was referring to,” Sam exhaled, looking to Duke.

  
“The Troubles _are_ over,” Nathan said angrily.

  
“Well, we know that, but that’s not what Driscoll’s leading them to believe,” Dwight replied. “It was scary, Nate. These are reasonable people, and it’s like they’re almost hypnotized.”

  
“Remember what Cas said last night, that Tabris is the Angel of Free Will?” Dean interjected. “I’ll bet anything he’s got a hand in this.”

  
Cas stood still a moment, listening.

  
“You’re right,” he spoke. “Driscoll’s followers believe him; that Paige is going to start the Troubles again. They are on their way here, so I think we should move her to a safer place.”

  
“Sam, you grab James’ car seat and get it in Baby,” Dean directed. “We’ll take her and the kid.”

  
Sam nodded, and dashed out of the door.

  
“I can take care of her,” Nathan argued.

  
“Your vehicle is too well-known,” Cas protested gently.

  
“He’s right, Nathan—everybody in town knows what the Mystery Machine looks like,” Duke put in. "And that car of yours looks like it can outrun almost anything."

"Damn straight she can," Dean bragged. 

  
“Nate, I’ll drive the Bronco, you take mine and follow them,” Dwight said. “Maybe I can draw them off for a bit and let you guys get away.”

  
“What about Duke? They’re going to be looking for him as well,” Nathan pointed out.

  
“I can transport Duke,” Cas said. “Where shall we go?”

  
“The Rook,” Duke said, remembering. “It was my Gran’s place. It’s a little run-down, but nobody goes out there.”

  
“One of your many hidey-holes,” Nathan smiled ruefully.

  
“Sounds like you led an interesting life,” Dean commented.

  
“Leading a fairly interesting afterlife too,” Duke replied, glancing at Castiel.

  
“You know where this place is?” Dean questioned Nathan.

  
“I do. Let’s get out of here,” he answered, and they quickly rounded up items and drove away.

 

* * *

 

 

No sooner had they driven away, than two truckloads of townspeople drove down the road that led to Nathan’s house.

  
One man forced entry, and they piled into the house, returning a few minutes later.

  
“They were just here,” he said. “Food’s still warm; they couldn’t have been gone more than ten minutes.”

  
“Fan out across town, we must find them before she has time to finish her plans,” the Rev called to them, and the townspeople dispersed into various vehicles, driving out into Haven.

  
“We will find them,” the Rev said to Tabris.

  
“It must be soon. Every hour Duke is with them, their hold on him strengthens,” Tabris replied.

  
“Are you certain that Duke Crocker is the one that you need?” the Rev questioned. “He was not exactly a worthy man in life.”

  
“Who are we to question the Lord?” Tabris said. “Remember what happened to the last angel that spoke out of turn.”

  
“He was cast down from Heaven,” the Rev murmured. “Very well—we shall find Duke Crocker—and then she will pay dearly for all the havoc she has brought on this town.”


	9. 9

_**9** _

 

The two vehicles crept down an overgrown trail that led to a smallish two-story dwelling, and got out. It was covered with flowering vines, and was hidden from view of the road. It was a perfect hideout, and Nathan could see why Duke had utilized it.

  
“Well, you weren’t kidding about it being run-down,” Dwight remarked as Duke found the key and ushered everyone inside.

  
“We’ve stayed in worse,” Dean shrugged. “Roof seems all right, floors are solid, wipe the dust off, and we’re golden.”

  
“There’s a generator in the basement,” Duke said, sinking down in a wooden chair. He looked exhausted, as though he’d been awake for days on end, and Paige smoothed back a strand of his dark hair.

  
“Hurting again?” she questioned.

  
“No, I’m all right,” Duke sighed. “I-it’s a lot, to process, first I’m dying, then I’m dead, then I’m alive again, and now I’m trying to be made into something else.”

  
“Well, hopefully, Rowena will find something that can help you,” Cas told him. “I can keep helping your pain momentarily; but beyond that, I cannot do anything. I do not have the power to override Tabris’ warding on you.”

  
Nathan and Sam went into the basement, while Dean went out to the Impala, retrieving the items they’d need to ward the house with.

 

* * *

 

 

As Dean stretched the netting over the truck, McHugh pulled up and quickly set to helping Dean in covering over the vehicles to help hide them from sight.

  
“Not that this is doin’ a lot of good, when all Tabris has to do is zero in on Duke,” Dean muttered. “The warding helps, but when there’s all of a sudden a spot you can’t go into, it’s kind of an obvious hiding place.”

  
“Angels can sense each other, right?” McHugh asked, and Dean nodded.

  
“Like homing pigeons,” he said. “Or bats, take your pick.”

  
“What’s that angel radio you referred to yesterday?”

  
“That’s how they communicate with each other. Cas is our ace in the hole on that count,” Dean replied. “He can hear what they’re talking about.”

  
“And he said Duke’s being mentioned in the chatter,” McHugh went on slowly.

  
“Yes.”

  
“Can I ask you something?”

  
“Go ahead.”

  
“Why would they need to make more angels? Aren’t there just legions and legions of them?”

  
Dean frowned. “There’s been an ongoing war, so their numbers are down. Beyond that, I really don’t want to say anything about it.”

  
“You can’t talk about it,” McHugh said, concerned.

  
“Not that—it’s just too complicated for a simple answer,” Dean told him. “Suffice it to say, they’re interested in seeing if Tabris can make your friend into an angel without help from either God or an archangel.”

  
“Wouldn’t be so bad if he turned out to be an angel,” McHugh smiled. “Dwight told me Duke came back after he died, you know. Even after all that he’d done, even after dying; he couldn’t bear to leave Haven behind. He helped Dwight find Nathan, to take him to save Audrey. And he said that Duke told him how to keep his daughter here,” he finished, his expression wistful. “That seems pretty angelic to me.”

  
“You keep saying that, she was brought back. She was dead?” Dean asked, and McHugh nodded.

  
“Troubles ran in families,” McHugh replied. “Someone shot at Dwight, and hers flared. Bullet hit and killed her nearly four years ago. When Croatoan—our version of him—came here, he restored Lizzie as an incentive for Dwight to help him,” he exhaled, glancing at Dean. “What wouldn’t you do for your family?”

  
“You don’t even want to know,” Dean said.

  
“But like I told you, before Duke left, he told Dwight to hold onto her, to use that focus and intent,” he finished, clenching his fists for example. “And she stayed.”

  
“Duke seems like he’s a good guy,” Dean said.

  
“He wasn’t always; but he turned out good in the end. So, yeah, he was good—is good. Hell, I don’t know anymore,” McHugh sighed. “But what happens to him after we beat this Tabris character?”

  
“That I don’t know,” Dean answered truthfully. “I’m not really sure Cas knows either. But either way, we need to keep him and your friend Paige out of Tabris’ hands.”  
“Agreed,” McHugh said, and they went back into the house.

 

* * *

 

 

Duke got up, and began helping Paige put things away in the kitchen. His head felt like it was buzzing; but he shook it off.

  
“You feeling okay?” she asked, touching his face, and he smiled slightly.

  
“Better, now that you know who I am,” he teased. He sat down next to James in the portable playpen he’d been placed in.

  
“So that’s the Colorado Kid, eh?” he grinned, and Paige nodded.

  
“Reborn—chance to do it all again,” she said. “Kind of like me.”

  
“Be nice if I could do that,” Duke sighed. His expression changed suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him. “Then again, I don’t know as I’d want to.”

  
“Why would you say that?” Paige asked.

  
“Because all of my experiences in my life made me who I am,” Duke said. “That was the one thing that always bothered me about what Charlotte and Agent Howard were doing to you all those years. You were a person; granted Mara was an evil bitch, but still. You had friends, relationships—and all that was stripped away every time you left,” he continued. “No. I don’t want that. I thought that’s what why we did everything we did was to keep you here. And you left anyway,” he finished, his eyes flat. "Before, you didn't really have a choice; but you did this time."

  
“You _saw_ all that?” Paige said, puzzled at the sudden change in his demeanor.

  
Duke nodded. “I saw it. Like I said, I wasn’t quite as ‘gone’ as everyone would have liked to think,” he answered bitterly. So there I was, invisible and voiceless, watching you rip Nate’s heart out and stomp on it before you went traipsing off into the Armory to go with Daddy.”

  
“Duke, that isn’t true,” Nathan blurted, coming into the kitchen. “And you _know_ it isn’t.”

  
“Really? You ever told her about the week you spent getting drunk and trashing your house screaming and crying that you killed me for nothing?” Duke argued his eyes bright. “I was _there_ , Nathan. I had to watch it _all_ and I could do _nothing_ ,” he raged at her, and Nathan intervened as Dean and Cas came in.

  
“What the—“Dean blurted, helping Nate with a struggling Duke. Cas reached out and placed a hand on Duke’s head and he dropped.

  
“What’d you do?” Nathan asked, wrestling a limp Duke into a chair.

  
“Nothing, he’s asleep. He’ll wake shortly,” Cas said.

 

“Why did he say all that?” Paige cried as Nathan held her close. “That isn’t like him at all.”

  
“Tabris,” Cas answered.

  
“Remember, what Cas said, Tabris is the Angel of Free Will,” Dean reminded them. “He probably made him say all that stuff. We’re gonna have to be on our guard, or he's gonna do the same thing to us.”

  
Dwight’s phone pinged and he looked at it, his expression horrified.

  
“What’s goin’ on?” Dean asked.

  
“Lizzie,” he exhaled. “They took Lizzie.”

  
“Guys, outside,” Sam gestured at the window, where he could see Tabris, standing outside with a little girl, holding hands.

  
Dwight stormed to the door, gun in hand, and Sam wrested it from him.

  
“Regular guns don’t work on angels,” he said.

  
“Then give me the one you used on Jordan,” he said. “She’s my daughter!”

  
“I know—we’re gonna make this right,” Dean put in. “We’re gonna get her back. Let us talk to him.”

  
“You already know what he wants, he wants Paige and Duke,” Dwight argued. “She’s—she’s all I have in this world,” he finished his voice breaking.

  
“Duke, don’t!” they heard Cas call from the kitchen, and they turned back to the doorway to find Lizzie running up the steps—and Duke standing next to Tabris. Dwight knelt down to pull her closely to him. Tabris gestured, and Duke’s wrists were suddenly manacled.

  
“You okay, baby?” he asked.

  
“Yes, Daddy,” Lizzie said, puzzled. “How did I get here, Daddy?”

  
“Doesn’t matter—you’re here now,” he answered, and held her closely again.

  
“Let him go, Tabris!” Dean ordered, pointing his gun at him.

  
“He has made his choice,” Tabris replied. “You have twelve hours to decide to help me, Paige—or I will send the townspeople in to take her.”

  
“Don’t do it!” Duke shouted back at the house, and was backhanded for his trouble.

  
“No!” Nathan yelled out before they both disappeared.

  
“That’s just great,” Dean groaned.

  
“What do we do now?” Paige asked.

  
“We get him back,” Nathan said, his jaw set determined.

  
“Any way we can,” Dean replied.

  
“That will be difficult—Tabris will begin his experiments with him again, and this time will likely destroy all his memories of you,” Cas spoke.

  
“Then I suggest we find them before then,” Rowena spoke from behind them. “I may have a way. You may not like it, though.”

  
“I'm pretty sure we won’t,” Dean sighed. “But let’s hear it.”


	10. 10

_**10** _

 

Tabris reappeared at the warehouse, and shoved Duke toward Kirk and Jordan.

  
“See if you can keep better track of him this time,” he snarled. “Get him ready—we’ll begin again with the injections shortly.”

  
“No,” Duke protested, trying to wrest away from them, but failed.

  
“Welcome back, Crocker,” Kirk sneered, forcing him into something that resembled a dentist’s chair, only less welcoming. “We missed you.”

  
“I bet,” Duke muttered as Jordan fastened the straps around his wrists and chest as Kirk held him down.

  
“You should be grateful to Tabris for restoring you; it’s a great honor he’s bestowing on you,” Reverend Driscoll intoned, approaching Duke.

  
“Then you do it,” Duke shot back.

  
“I would gladly do so if I could,” the Rev said. “I told you that your line was special, Duke,” he continued, pointing at him. “You’ve been chosen for this most holy mission—and you are going to fulfill it.”

  
“Never,” Duke answered through gritted teeth. “I would never hurt Paige or Audrey for anything.”

  
“We shall see,” Tabris said, his tone neutral. “However, allowing you to retain your memories of your previous existence has proven to be a mistake-one that I shall soon remedy.”

 

* * *

  
“So what’s this plan you have that we’re probably not going to like?” Dean questioned.

  
“I found a spell that we might can use to weaken Tabris’ hold on your friend,” Rowena began. “The problem is that it requires two witches to perform it.”

  
“Can’t one of us just read the spell with you?” Sam said.

  
“No—it’s got to be a practicing witch,” Rowena said. “I have a great deal of power, but even I can’t split meself inta two witches.”

  
“Trust me, Rowena, one of you is more than enough,” Dean cracked. “Great—you know of any witches that would be willing to help, or have you turned all your competition into frogs by now?”

  
“I never turned _anyone_ into a frog,” Rowena protested. “I might’ve turned one into a hamster perhaps, but never a frog.”

  
“Wait,” Nathan spoke. “I—might know of someone. Dwight, do you remember the name of that woman who helped out during the Fog Shroud? She was an herbalist—a hedgeitch, she called herself?”

  
“A hedge witch,” Rowena said, pleasantly surprised. “I thought I felt a little thrum of power somewhere towards the woods.”

  
“Alice Morgan,” Dwight remembered. “The Rev’s people gave her some trouble a few years back, claimed she was sacrificing animals out there, that she was doing black magic.”

  
“Alice isn’t a black magic witch,” Nathan protested.

  
“That you know of,” Dean pointed out.

  
“She’s an herbalist—grows herbs, puts together medicinal teas, makes little bags of stuff for good luck, things like that,” Paige said. “She says she doesn’t like to do hexes and curses because they have a way of coming back on you.”

  
“Aye, she’s right there—if you don’t manage ‘em properly, curses can double back on ye,” Rowena replied. “So who’s going to go and fetch the darling girl to help us out?”

  
“Would she, you think?” Sam said. “Paige, you seem to know her.”

“I see her around Haven sometimes, we don’t exactly hang out or anything,” Paige protested mildly. “She is very reclusive.”

  
“Yeah, we nearly had to drag her into town during the Shroud so she wouldn’t get killed by the dark,” Dwight remarked.

  
“What Shroud?” Dean questioned. “And I’m almost afraid to ask about the dark killing people.”

  
“When Duke released all the Troubles, one guy was so afraid for his family, he created an entire fog around the whole town,” Nathan said. “No one could leave or enter—we literally disappeared off the map.”

  
“And the dark was one guy’s anger—the dark was killing people,” Dwight put in. “So when we say we really don’t need the Troubles back again, we’re not kidding.”

  
“I get it—Haven seems like a nice place, but I wouldn’t want to be trapped here forever,” Dean said. “All right—Rowena, Dwight and I are going to go get this Alice chick—Sammy, you and Cas hold the fort here. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

"Be careful, Dean," Cas replied. 

* * *

  
Dwight led the way, while Dean and Rowena followed closely behind in the Impala.

  
They reached Haven’s city limits, and the woods began to grow thicker and denser, and Dean noted a sign as they passed.

  
“Ravenswood--Posted, Private Property,” he read aloud, and also noticed Rowena shift in her seat.

  
He gave her a funny look. “Got ants in your pants?” he questioned.

  
“No—but this Alice Morgan’s got a great deal more power than she’s let on to these people,” Rowena said. “Ye can’t _feel_ that? These woods are radiatin’ with her power.”

  
“No, I don’t,” Dean answered crossly. But now that she mentioned it, he _did_  have that prickly feeling at the back of his neck, and he made a note to get out his pistol with the witch-killer bullets just in case. “Is she evil, Rowena?”

  
“No, she’s not evil,” Rowena replied. “She’s more hurt and angry, I think. She knows we’re comin’, that much is for certain; no doubt we set off all sorts of alarm bells drivin’ past that marker,” she gestured back toward the road.

  
“What marker?”

  
“Ye didna see that? Sometimes yer so blind, Dean Winchester,” Rowena protested. “That dead tree in the woods just off the road was _covered_ in sigil carvings!”

  
She gasped suddenly, and then chuckled and clapped her hands.

  
“What’s so funny?” Dean asked.

  
“You’ll find out in a moment,” Rowena said mysteriously as Dwight came to a stop outside of a wood fence and made his way over to a weather-aged bell.

  
Dean surveyed the house. It was painted in a dark grey, and would be nearly invisible in the woods; save for its purple door and trim. Well-kept lush vegetation grew around the property, along with an herbal garden off to one side, and he could hear the clucking of chickens from somewhere behind the house.

  
“Ye know what they say about purple doors,” Rowena said slyly.

  
“That a witch lives in the house,” Dean answered. “But most real witches don’t advertise it.”

  
The door opened, and a dark-haired woman emerged from the house, clad in a wraparound black sweater coat to ward against the chill. She was thirtyish, slender, olive-skinned, and fairly attractive, with a full mouth and grey eyes that surveyed her guests at the gate for a moment before she spoke.

  
“Dwight,” she greeted. “Along with some rather interesting companions,” she observed Dean and Rowena.

"Dean Winchester and Rowena MacLeod," Dwight introduced the pair.

  
“Permission ta cross,” Rowena called aloud. “My mission be a peaceful one, Sister.”

  
“Rowena MacLeod,” Alice said the timbre of her voice rich and pleasant. “Are the events unfolding in Haven your doing?”

"You know her?" Dwight asked.

" _Every_ witch knows the name Rowena MacLeod," Alice replied, and Dean could not help but notice the tiny smile that crinkled at the corner of Rowena's mouth. 

  
“No, not my doin',” Rowena answered. “In fact, we came to speak with ye about them.”

  
“So you know what’s going on?” Dwight asked.

  
“I do. Come, please,” Alice gestured and went back inside her home.

  
Dean surreptitiously checked his pistol and tucked it into the back of his jeans, covering it with his jacket as Dwight opened the gate and allowed them inside.

  
“You two decide to start throwin’ down, give us the high sign and we’ll get out the way,” Dean mumbled to Rowena.

  
“I wouldna dream of it,” Rowena answered, her eyes on the move around the property and the house, as though she were searching for something, and Dean felt his suspicions growing.

  
Inside, the house reminded him much of Bobby’s place—warm and homey, yet loaded down in occult ephemera. He could see the sigils, the carvings disguised as artwork, and he realized what Rowena had been chuckling about.

  
“You’re a Hunter,” Dean said to Alice.

  
“Only in this area,” Alice replied. “It’s my intent to see that what happened in Haven doesn’t happen again. So far I have been successful—but who or whatever is causing what’s happening now is out of my abilities.”

  
“Alice, you said you knew about the events—the resurrections—of people around Haven,” Dwight put in.

  
Alice nodded her gray eyes on him. “Yes—one does notice when the dead are seen strolling about the townscape, and you’re not the only one who sees them,” she said drily. “I was passing Good Shepherd yesterday evening, and who should emerge from the church but the good Reverend Driscoll,” she remarked.

  
“So you knew him when he was alive,” Dean said.

  
“I do tend to remember people who tried to burn me out of my home,” Alice answered evenly. She gazed at him. “So you are one of the famous Winchester brothers,” she continued. “Do you know who’s causing the havoc here?”

  
“An angel named Tabris,” Dwight said.

  
“Angels?” Alice replied, surprised. “I would expect this from demons and evil spirits, but not angels.”

  
“Then you don’t know angels,” Dean cracked. “He’s been resurrecting people who died from the Troubles.”

  
“So far, he’s revived Driscoll, Jordan McKee, and Kirk Bowers,” Dwight told her.

  
“Not exactly people I would have deemed worthy of resurrection,” Alice commented, her face puzzled.

  
“He’s also resurrected Duke Crocker—he’s trying to convert him into some kind of hybrid angel,” Dwight finished.

  
“Duke would definitely not be my first choice for angel material,” Alice half-smiled. “But Crocker’s moral character isn’t why he revived him, is it? It’s the magic in Duke’s bloodline that he wanted. Haven relied heavily on the Crockers while the Troubles existed.”

  
“We think so, yeah,” Dean said. "We also think he might be using blood magic to do it."

  
“We think he’s trying to resurrect the Troubles—something about them made people who died from them soul’s stronger, somehow,” Dwight stated.

  
“And people with Troubles’ bodies would be stronger vessels for angels,” Dean added. 

  
“Make them better vessels for demons as well,” Alice pointed out. “If he's using blood magic, he might as well advertise what he's doing in neon lights. I don’t think this Tabris has thought this plan of his through very well.”

  
“We’ve tried talking to him, but he’s not listening—and our guy isn’t strong enough to take him on,” Dean said. “He’s a higher-up angel than our guy is.”

  
“But I think that if we work together, we can help put an end to this,” Rowena told her, and took a scroll out of her coat, spreading it out on a nearby table.

  
Alice moved closer, her eyes moving over it.

  
“I’ve never done this one,” she murmured.

  
“Nobody’s done this one in 200 years,” Rowena replied. “But as ye can see, it takes two witches ta perform it.”

  
“Haven needs your help,” Dwight said.

  
“And exactly why would I give Haven help?” Alice demanded. “I was oh-so-valuable because everyone thought I was Troubled, that my powers were because of the Troubles—only they weren’t, were they?” she continued, blinking back angry tears. “And I still do for this town and I get treated like a pariah!”

  
“Hey, I get it,” Dean said gently. “Hunting’s a thankless job—normal people just go about their daily lives and have no idea of the crap we see in ours. Got no idea they’re living next door to a literal monster who’d eat them or their kids, given half a chance. But we do the job anyway.”

  
“Please, Alice—I know Haven hasn’t exactly welcomed you with open arms, but we could really use your help,” Dwight pleaded. “Tabris is doing something to Duke, and it’s changing him. These guys know an angel, and he says that he’ll never make Duke into an angel, because humans just aren’t made to be angels.”

  
“He’s right there—this whole shtick that we all get wings and a harp when we die and go to Heaven is baloney,” Alice said offhandedly, and Dean cracked a smile. “Angels are born, not made. However, I agree with you there, that he must be stopped. Very well—I will help you do the spell, Mistress Rowena. But it must be done here.”

  
“Why?” Dwight asked. “Home turf advantage?”

  
“No,” Rowena smiled. “Because she’s protectin’ somethin’ Tabris wants very much ta find.”

  
“And what would that be?” Dean questioned.

  
“A thin spot,” Rowena answered, and Alice nodded agreement.

  
“Not just a thin spot—an open thinny,” Alice said. “That is how we’ll trap him.”


	11. 11

_**11** _

 

“How much longer do you think they’re gonna be?” Sam asked Castiel, who was gazing out of the window.

  
“I cannot tell,” Cas said. “Where they have gone to, I cannot see. This Alice Morgan’s magic is a lot stronger than she has led the people of this town to believe.”

  
“You think that’s bad?”

  
“I cannot say—as I told you, I can’t see there. She’s hiding something—something of great power, I suspect.”

  
“You think we should get over there?” Sam questioned anxiously. “You know how Rowena is, and if Alice has something that she could use—“

  
“I think we should remain here, to keep Paige and the child safe,” Cas urged. “If Dean needs us, he will call.”

  
McHugh entered the house.

  
“Car coming down the road,” he said. Sam checked his pistol, and turned to Paige.

  
“Go into the bathroom, take James, you’ll be safe there,” he told her. Paige nodded, and gathered James up, locking the door behind them.

  
The car came to a stop, and Brenda Hopkins emerged from it.

  
“Brenda—what do you want?” McHugh called from the porch.

  
“I just wanna talk, that’s all,” she stammered. “I gotta tell you something.”

  
She glanced over her shoulder. “But I don’t want to tell it out here— _he_ might hear me,” she added nervously. “I don’t think he’d be too happy if he knew I was out here talking to you guys.”

  
“You can say what you’ve got to say right there,” McHugh began, but Sam cut him short.

  
“I think she’s trying to say Tabris could hear her, and she’s right,” he said. “What are you trying to say? Do you know where they took Duke?”

  
“Y-Yes,” Brenda stammered. “Please—if he knew I was out here,” she said, but they understood.

  
“You better come in then,” McHugh grudgingly admitted, and Brenda scampered inside quickly and they closed the door behind her.

  
She glanced around at the assorted sigils.

  
“Will these really keep them out of here?” she asked.

  
“They have so far,” Sam replied. “Now tell us what you have to say. Tabris cannot get in here, nor can he hear you.”

  
Brenda nodded, swallowing nervously.

  
“I-I’m thirsty—could I trouble you for some water?” she asked.

  
“I got it,” McHugh answered, and went into the kitchen.

  
Brenda began to cry, huddling back against the door with her arms behind her. Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  
“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “I know this all has to be kind of scary for you guys.”

  
“It is,” Brenda exhaled, secretly palming her keys and scratching through the sigil painted on it. “But it’s going to be better soon, right?” she smiled timorously.

  
McHugh returned with the water glass, and handed it to her.

  
“Thanks,” Brenda smiled, sipping at it.

  
“Now what were you going to tell us?” Sam questioned.

  
“They have your friend Duke in an old canning factory,” Brenda said. “It’s the one where the Bolt-Gun Killer buried his victims.”

  
“I know the place,” McHugh stated.

  
There was a sudden bang from the back bedroom, and they all jumped. Brenda clutched the glass in her hand, and smashed it.

  
“We’ll check it out,” Cas stated, and he and McHugh headed down the hallway.

  
“Hey, you cut yourself,” Sam said, concerned.

  
“No, it’s just a scratch,” Brenda gasped. “You got a Band-Aid?”

  
“Yeah, hold on, lemme get one,” Sam began, heading to the bathroom.

  
He had just retrieved one when he saw Brenda step to a table, doodling something furiously in blood just as Cas and McHugh returned.

  
“No, _don’t_!” Sam shouted as she slammed her hand onto the table, and Castiel vanished in a flash of light.

  
“What did you do?” he shouted at her just as the front door burst open and Tabris stepped through.

  
McHugh threw a punch, but Tabris caught his fist, and touched him on the forehead. McHugh collapsed and slid to the floor.

  
“Thank you, Brenda,” Tabris answered.

  
Sam lifted his pistol to shoot, but was clobbered from behind by Kirk, and he dropped unconscious.

  
“Get the woman,” Tabris instructed. Kirk kicked at the door, forcing it open, and caught hold of Paige, dragging her out.

  
“McHugh! Sam!” Paige screamed as the Rev and Kirk took hold of her, Jordan taking James in her arms. “What did you do to them?”

  
“They will recover. Bring Winchester along,” Tabris instructed.

  
“What of the other angel?” Jordan asked.

  
“It will take him some time to return,” Tabris said. “By then we should be well underway with our plans.”

* * *

 

 

Rowena and Alice were over in by the fireplace, both of them gazing at an unassuming little gray cup while Dwight and Dean helped load the boxes the pair had packed into his truck.

  
“Is that what I think it is?” Rowena asked.

  
“Depends on what you think it is,” Alice murmured.

“I think that it’s the Crucible of Eldritch,” Rowena said. “It's one of the most powerful talisman casters to ever exist. However did ye come by it?”

  
“Some people don’t know the value of what they have,” Alice remarked. “The woman I bought it from thought it was a Russian loving cup or something because of the writing.”

  
“Would ye be interested in sellin’ it?”

  
“No. Not for _any_ price,” Alice said sharply, but relented. “But it could be _rented_ for a price.”

  
“I think ye an’ I could get on famously,” Rowena smiled, and linked her arm through Alice’s.

* * *

 

Dwight glanced back at the house.

  
“You think this is gonna work?” he asked Dean. “All of this hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo?”

  
“You’ve seen angels and dead people resurrected, and you’re gonna doubt that  _witchcraft_ is real?” Dean retorted. “It’s _all_ real, Dwight—monsters in the closet, vampires, tooth fairies, imaginary friends—all of it real, much of it very deadly.”

  
He turned back to look at the house, seeing Rowena and Alice talking together.

  
“They’re getting awfully chummy,” he remarked.

  
“So Rowena’s the real thing, huh?”

  
“Oh yeah,” Dean said. “She’s one of the most powerful—and deadliest—witches on the planet.”

  
“So why is she helping you?”

  
“She owes us one,” Dean muttered.

  
Rowena and Alice emerged from the house, and Alice shut the door behind her.

  
“All set, ladies?” Dean asked.

  
“Indeed we are,” Rowena answered. “We’ll fix yer wee problems in nothin’ flat,” she told Dwight, patting his cheek. “An’ get yer would-be angel friend back in the process.”

  
Cas suddenly appeared, and Alice stepped back. Rowena patted her arm.

  
“Nothin’ ta be alarmed about, it’s just an angel,” she said, and Alice stared at Cas with wide eyes.

  
“Cas, why aren’t you at the house with Sam?” Dean demanded.

  
“We were ambushed. A woman came to the house, claimed to have knowledge of where they took Duke. Once inside, she damaged a sigil and banished me. By the time I had returned, they were gone and your friend McHugh was unconscious.”

 

“Was he badly hurt?” Dwight asked. “And how did she do that?”

  
“No, he is safe. Dean, they took Sam, Paige and the baby,” Cas informed him, and Dean’s face reddened in fury.

  
“Who was it that came to the house?” Dwight interrogated Cas.

  
“McHugh called the woman Brenda,” Cas stated.

  
“Brenda Hopkins—one of the Rev’s followers,” Dwight told Dean. “But how did she know to do all of that.”

  
“Tabris must’ve told her,” Dean snapped. “C’mon, let’s get back there; see if we can find out anything else.”

  
Castiel stood still, listening.

  
“What are they saying?” Dean asked.

  
“What’s _who_ saying?” Alice stage-whispered.

  
“It’s Tabris—he’s asking other Principalities to join with him at a site not far from here tonight,” Cas spoke. “He’s asking for their help in breaking down your barrier you erected,” he directed to Alice. “It will not stand up to their combined might.”

  
“Then we’ll just have to push back,” Rowena said firmly. “So I suggest we get this show on the road, boyos.”

* * *

 

 

In a run-down warehouse, Paige cradled James closely to her, walking nearer to where Duke was seated, his head down.

  
“Duke?” she said softly, sitting down next to him. “Hey, Duke,” she soothed, her hand on his face, lifting his head up as he opened his eyes to gaze at her. “Are you all right?”

  
“Yes,” he breathed, his expression puzzled. “But—who are you?”

  
“He doesn’t remember you,” Jordan told her, approaching them. “So your favorite little weapon of playing on Duke’s sympathies is gone. He belongs to us now.”

  
Paige looked back at Duke, seeing no trace of recognition in his eyes, only a dispassionate gaze meeting hers, as though she were a stranger on the bus.

  
“What did they _do_ to you?” she asked, tears spilling over. James sensed his mother’s discomfort, and began to wail.

  
“We did nothing at all—Duke has seen the light, and chosen the right path,” the Rev toned. “Get them ready,” he told Jordan. “We leave at sunset.”


	12. 12

_**12** _

 

Nathan returned to the house to find Dean, Dwight, McHugh, Cas, Rowena and Alice.

  
“Wh-where’s Paige and James?” he asked.

  
“Tabris took them,” Dean said bluntly. “Before you go off, they were ambushed. They took my brother too, so you ain’t alone in the boat, Wuornos.”

  
Nathan quivered with anger, but he took a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down.

  
“Tell me you have a solution to this,” he finally spoke once he’d gotten himself under control.

  
“Turns out Alice has been sitting on an open thinny all this time,” Dwight said, casting a glance toward Alice, who was enigmatic.

  
“Open? I thought when Vince and Audrey left, every opening to the Void closed,” Nathan said, puzzled. “How is it open?”

  
“The opening is not large, maybe only six inches in diameter,” Alice spoke. “I’ve had barriers erected around it since I discovered it, for fear that if I tried closing it on my own, I could cause it to open further. I had hoped that it would close on its own, but it hasn’t.”

  
“So that’s why you put up all those Posted signs,” Nathan said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  
“People had been through enough—and I knew that I’d take the blame for it if it were found out there was an open thinny,” Alice told him. “Since Crocker’s been gone, Haven needs a new scapegoat for everything that goes wrong, so three guesses as to who got the job.”

  
“They always blame the witches first, don’t they?” Rowena agreed.

  
“Tabris knows it’s out there,” Dean put in. “He’s sent out the signal that he needs his buddies to join him and help break her barriers down to access the thinny.”

  
“Where’s your angel friend?” Nathan asked.

  
“He’s gone ahead to scout,” Dean replied. “We’re heading to the locale now. Rowena and Alice have what they need to work the spell, so that’s got to be done, pronto.”

  
“Brenda told us they’re holding Duke at that old cannery where Arla was burying her victims,” Dwight told him. “Nate, you and I are goin’ there.”

  
“I’m comin’ too—Sam might be there as well,” Dean protested.

  
“We need you with Rowena and Alice—they need cover as well, right? You know all about this supernatural stuff—if Sam’s there, he can help us out. And you have Castiel for help as well.”

  
“I’ll send Cas on with you—you’ll need him more than we will if Tabris and the others are there,” Dean said. “All right, ladies, let’s hit it.”

  
“Bout bloody time,” Rowena answered. Alice said nothing, but swung a long embroidered coat with a hood over her shoulders, fastening the toggles in the front.

  
“Lovely,” Rowena murmured, eyeing the embroidery of runework that ran the length of the sleeves and down the shoulders and back of the garment.

  
“Dress for success,” Dean shrugged, and swung into the driver’s seat as Alice crept in the back of the Impala and Rowena took the passenger seat.

  
“Good luck, you guys,” Nate answered, and he and Dwight climbed into the Bronco to head into town.

* * *

  
Deep in the woods, Castiel walked around through the trees, some yards away from a rather barren locale. He could not enter directly into the clearing; he could see the sigils to prevent angels or demons from entering flare against the trees they’d been carved into as he circled slowly around.

  
He could also see the opening of the thinny—a small, shimmering circle, seemingly floating in mid-air with a greenish light shining behind it. Humans could not see it; but he could. So could any other supernatural being. He heard the sound of the Impala’s engine cut off, and he relaxed slightly.

  
“We will soon have this barrier down, Brother,” Tabris spoke from behind him.

  
“To open this thin space between realms is inviting disaster,” Cas warned, hoping to buy them some time to reinforce the barriers. “We have no idea what will happen.”

  
“But she does,” he gestured, pointing to Audrey, who was being frog-marched forward by Jordan and Kirk.

  
“Where’s the child?” Cas asked.

  
“We left him with Samuel at the cannery. Both are safe; we didn’t need the child, we needed her. We took him so that someone would be there to watch him. I know very well what Dean Winchester is capable of regarding his brother.” He gazed at Castiel. “Or what he’s capable of regarding his friends.”

  
Cas turned and headed over to Paige.

  
“Are you all right?” he asked.

  
“Yes, just scared out of my wits,” she replied. “They want me to do something to open this. I don’t know how to do that, I didn’t know how to do it when I was _Audrey,_ for that matter,” she protested.

  
Cas gauged Jordan and Kirk, wondering if he could take both on at once, when he noticed other angels emerging from the trees.

  
“We are nearly ready,” Tabris announced to them. “Keep watch and make sure the Winchesters don’t interfere.”

* * *

  
Had Tabris looked deeper into the woods, he would have seen Rowena and Alice finish drawing out their sigil in the clearing, while Dean was busily laying down a salt ring with the 50-lb bag he’d grabbed from the Impala’s trunk.

  
“Be sure ta leave us an out,” Rowena called over her shoulder.

  
“Nag nag nag,” Dean muttered, leaving a foot-wide area clear.

  
A vehicle approached, and Dean looked up, relief evident in his face at the sight of Sam seated in the passenger seat of Dwight’s truck.

  
Sam climbed out and quickly headed over, the brothers embracing briefly.

  
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked.

  
“Yeah,” Sam replied, rubbing at the bump on his head. “They took me and Paige and the baby—they left me behind with James and took Paige.”

  
“They could’ve just left you at the house,” Dean pointed out.

  
“I think Tabris wanted us to know he was going to do this with or without our interference,” Sam told him. “They got hold of Duke again; his memory’s totally gone, Paige said.”

  
Dean glanced back at Dwight, who was impassive, watching Nathan pull up behind them. He turned his gaze instead to Rowena and Alice as they pulled the hoods of their capes over their heads, each taking a sheet of paper in their hands.

  
“On the count of three, we begin together,” Rowena said, and Alice nodded agreement. “One—two—three.”

  
“ _Rerum mearums muri aedificavi_

  
_Et confortabo eos in_

  
_Accusauit in flamma ignis_

  
_Imperatorium exeact contra eos caelum iactabantur scriptor_

  
_Praecipimus moenia urgeant_

  
_Muri aedificavi minibus!”_ they chorused.

  
As they chanted Dean could see the barrier they were creating lighting up, rising higher around the perimeter of where they’d drawn the sigil they stood outside of, giving off its purplish light.

  
“Stop!” they heard Tabris command.

  
Sam and Dean whirled around, guns at the ready, along with Dwight, Nathan and McHugh.

  
“Destroy the carvings,” the Rev directed a few of his followers, and they began to move toward the trees, but a shot from Dean directly in front of his feet stopped him in his tracks.

  
“Don’t do it,” he warned. “You want the Troubles back again?”

  
“We’re gonna put her back to where she came from!” one man shouted. “Then they’ll really be gone!”

  
“They’re already gone, but Tabris here wants them back again,” Dean yelled back at them. “He wants to use you as guinea pigs—didn’t you get enough of that the first time around?”

  
“That is untrue,” Tabris answered.

  
“Isn’t it?” Look what he’s done to your friends,” Sam protested.

  
“He resurrected them, gave them new life,” Brenda said.

  
“Do. Not. Do. This,” Nathan said. “Duke, do you want to be a monster again, because that is _exactly_ what you will become.”

  
“I have no recollection of that,” Duke replied. “Tabris is with me—he’ll guide me.”

  
“No,” Nathan urged. “Duke, that stuff is poisonous. It destroyed you,” he went on, his voice shaking. “It took everything Audrey had to bring you back from the brink. It took everything you loved from you—your family, Evi, Jennifer, even your life. You _have_ to remember that.”

  
“Stop this now, Tabris!” Cas shouted.

  
“Get out of the way, Castiel, or you will be moved out of the way,” Tabris warned as the other angels advanced.

  
A sharp whistle and a pistol shot rang out from in front of where Rowena and Alice had finished chanting, and everyone froze in shock at the sight of a short, slightly stout little man all clad in black who'd suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

  
“Ah, hell,” Dean exhaled.

  
“Well, well,” Crowley said. “Throwing a party and I wasn’t invited?” I’m hurt.”

  
“Crowley, this doesn’t concern you,” Dean snarled.

  
Crowley coolly observed Rowena and Alice.

  
“Mother,” he greeted. “Found a new playmate, I see.”

  
“Who is that?” Dwight shouted. “Is he another angel?”

  
“An angel? Hardly,” Crowley chuckled. “I’m flattered, but no.”

  
“His name’s Crowley,” Dean answered. “He’s the King of Hell.”

  
“Ask a stupid question,” Nathan said lamely. “Can this get any worse?”

  
“Could _always_ be worse-could be Lucifer instead of Crowley,” Dean muttered.

  
“I thought Lucifer was the king of Hell,” Dwight answered.

  
“No, no, different demon altogether, mate,” Crowley informed him. “I’m the _nicer_ one, believe me. If I _were_ Lucifer, you’d all be dust by now.”

  
Dean’s answer, however, seemed to spur the Rev into action.

  
“ _Begone_ , foul fiend of Satan!” he shouted, advancing on Crowley, angel blade in hand.

  
Crowley looked toward him with a bemused expression and lifted his hand.

  
“Bye-bye,” he said, and snapped his fingers, the Rev dissolving into a cloud of dust.

  
Jordan and Kirk cried out and backed away as the remainder of the Rev’s followers took to their heels and ran from the woods screaming into the growing dusk.

  
“Any other takers?” Crowley asked, surveying them.

  
One of the angels with Tabris moved forward, and Crowley lifted his hand again.

  
“Bum-rush me, and you will be up to your angelic wazoos in demons in five seconds,” he stated bluntly. “Now then—I suggest we all have a peaceful little chat about Tabris’ little Build-An-Angel Workshop project.”


	13. Chapter 13

_**13** _

 

Crowley strolled past Sam and Dean.

  
“Hello, boys, fancy meeting you here,” he remarked. Dean glared after him and Sam followed suit. “Surprised it’s taken you this long to get around to this strange little burg.”

  
“What do you want, Crowley?” Dean asked.

  
“Well, for once, we’re on the same team here, boys,” Crowley said more to Tabris than to Sam and Dean. “This angels-from-humans idea of yours is a terrible one, Tabris.”

  
“How did _you_ find out about it?” Dean demanded.

  
“When my mother goes digging through my _personal_ archives for a barrier spell that no one’s used in over 200 years, it piques my interest. So I put a tiny tracking spell on the parchment,” he confessed.

  
“Why?” Dean questioned.

  
“I wanted to know what it was that she was trying so hard to keep in or out. Normally I would have guessed me, but this was different.”

  
Tabris began to speak again, but Crowley held up a finger.

  
“I’m not finished,” he said politely. “Now, if I know about your little plans—who else do you think knows about this? I think you lot tend to forget because he’s been gone from Heaven for so long that Lucifer is, in fact, still an angel.”

  
“Not just an angel—an archangel,” Sam put in.

  
“He’s been eavesdropping on Angel Radio,” Dean paled.

  
“That is a very distinct possibility,” Crowley deadpanned. “My suggestion would be to pack it in. Radio to Heaven or whatever it is that you do that the mission’s been scrubbed,” he finished briskly. “Put everything back like it was, and walk away. Or we will all have problems that even Sam and Dean Winchester couldn’t fix.”

  
“Of course _you_ would want that to happen,” Tabris said through gritted teeth. “You can commandeer any vessel you want.”

  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nathan asked Dean.

  
“Demons don’t have to ask to take control of your body, they just do it. Angels must ask your permission—and it’s a risk that the person they choose can’t contain them, then—kablooey. Literally.”

  
“Messy business,” Crowley wrinkled his nose.

  
“I’m curious as to know how _you_ knew that this thinny was here, Alice,” Paige said. “Humans can’t see them.”

  
“She’s not fully human though, are you, love?” Crowley said, looking Alice over. “You’re from her side of the woods, well; part of you is anyway,” he jerked his head towards Paige, “minus the engineering to make her age like a human.”

  
“Is that true, Alice? You’re part Otherworlder?” Nathan asked.

  
“I didn’t know it until I saw the thinny,” Alice confessed. “I was out here with some-other people—and they couldn’t see it.”

  
“You never came into town when Charlotte was categorizing Troubles,” Dwight remembered. “You weren’t on the Troubled census.”

  
“A fact I was innately grateful for when Croatoan sent Duke out on his little killing spree,” Alice remarked drily, glancing at Duke, who was impassive.

  
“But your magic wasn't a Trouble, it’s still here,” Paige said.

  
“That could explain why your magic’s so strong too,” Rowena added.

  
“If what Crowley’s saying is true, I’d scrub the mission,” Dean spoke to Tabris. “We just stopped the last apocalypse.”

  
“There was an apocalypse?” McHugh puzzled.

  
“But the thing is, what to do about your—protégées,” Crowley continued, eyeing Kirk and Jordan. “The minister-y one was disposed of easily enough. You lot don’t seem terribly upset about it, I have to say,” he remarked.

  
“The Rev wasn’t a well-liked man in our circles,” Nathan answered, and Crowley nodded, satisfied with his response.

  
“I could deal with the other two easily enough too, but this one, however--especially this one—not so much,” he gestured to Duke. “I would suggest feeding him to that hole over there and seal it off for good. That’s what it wants, anyway.”

  
“Wait—you can _hear_ aether?” Nathan said.

  
“Not so much hear it as sense what it wants,” Crowley told him. “Aether—think of it as an _extremely_ watered-down version of Leviathans. It doesn’t have good intentions, not for your specie anyway,” he flapped his hand at Nathan and the others.

  
“Are you serious?” Sam breathed his eyes wide. “ _Leviathans_ are making this stuff?”

  
“I didn’t say they were making it, Moose—just that it’s got similar properties to them,” Crowley replied.

  
“If-and that’s a _big_ if-that’s true, you need to stop this mission right now,” Dean ordered Tabris.

  
“Leviathans are indeed dangerous creatures,” Tabris replied, thinking it over.

  
“For those of us just tuning into the program, would you mind telling us what Leviathans are?” Dwight asked.

  
“They were the First Beasts created by God,” Dean began. “They are really, really bad news. They eat _anything_ -even each other. So God locked them away in Purgatory—they got out a while back.”

  
“We put them back in, but it was at a heavy cost,” Sam said.

  
Dean looked grim. “We lost damn good people doing it too.”

  
“You just want us to throw our friend into the Void and just be like ‘oh well’ about it?” Nathan asked, putting his hand on Duke’s shoulder, who pulled away from his touch.

  
“Look,” Crowley sighed, being unusually patient for a change. “I know it’s a lot to swallow, and this is probably way above your pay grades, but it would be the best thing to do, unless you have another solution in mind.”

  
“No,” Paige said fiercely. “Even if he doesn’t remember us, we couldn’t do that to Duke. Or to Kirk and Jordan,” she added.

  
“ _Spare_ me your charity,” Kirk sneered at her, and Nathan glared at him.

  
“Could always come and work for me, mate,” Crowley suggested. “Afraid you’ll never get to Heaven, but an up-and-comer like you could make something of himself in Hell.”

KIrk didn't respond, merely rolled his eyes at him.

  
“Tabris—the _last_ thing in the world any of us needs is Lucifer underfoot,” Sam pleaded. “You know that and we know that. These people certainly don’t need him interfering with them.”

  
“You’ve _seen_ Lucifer?” McHugh said, incredulous. “You mean _the_ Lucifer with the horns and the cape and all that stuff?”

  
“Like Crowley said, Lucifer is an angel, he’s got a vessel just like Cas and Tabris do,” Dean told them, and pulled out his phone, showing them a picture. “Have _any_ of you seen this guy around town lately?”

  
“Can’t say as I have,” Dwight replied, and the others shook their heads.

  
“Not his best photo,” Crowley said, peering at the phone.

  
“You’re telling me that’s the Prince of Darkness,” Dwight said doubtfully.

  
“That’s him,” Dean said. “You see this guy around, it’s gonna hit the fan, big-time, because it’s a whole lot easier to make demons than angels.”

 

"Very true," Crowley remarked. 

  
“That’s what he claims,” Duke finally spoke. “You wouldn’t want angels around to deal with _your_ kind, would you?”

  
“While that is somewhat true, I do understand the need for them, however large a pain in my backside they may be,” Crowley murmured, eyeing Duke, who gazed back at him steadily. “Mother—do you think you could possibly jostle his memory?” he asked.

  
“Ye know how dangerous that can be, Fergus,” Rowena told him.

  
“It’ll be more dangerous if he doesn’t remember himself,” Crowley replied. “Tabris has him all gung-ho to break through to there. It’d be better if he remembered _why_ that isn’t a good idea.”

  
“You seem to know an awful lot about us, Mr. Crowley,” Nathan said, his tone even. “May I ask why all the interest?”

  
“I _was_ interested, mate,” Crowley shrugged. “I first came here to this country ages ago. Met the Troubles’ creator; she was a feisty girl, but unwilling to be cooperative. This is her vessel, but she’s not there any longer, is she, love?” he asked Paige.

  
“No, she died when Charlotte recombined us,” Paige said.

  
“Fascinating,” Crowley answered. “Anyway, that would be my recommendation.”

  
Tabris glanced at the other angels, and Dean wondered if they could read one another’s minds, before Tabris spoke again.

  
“I will—consult with the others about this matter,” he said. “However, Duke remains with us,” he finished, and began to gesture to Duke, but Rowena reacted swiftly.

  
“ _Prohibere!_ ” she commanded, and Duke vanished. Tabris looked extremely angry, but departed with the other angels.

  
“W-what’d you _do_ with him?” Nathan burst out.

  
“Dean, if ye’d be so kind as to make me a place to put him,” Rowena said, and Dean and Sam quickly reached for what looked like a gas can, pouring it into a circle on the ground.

  
“Hit it,” Dean told her.

  
“ _Prius incoepit claritas_ ,” Rowena toned, and Dean threw his lighter into the substance he and Sam had poured out just as Duke reappeared. The flame quickly spread around the circle that Duke was in. He made to move forward, but quickly found he was imprisoned in the flames.

  
“What the hell is that stuff?” McHugh exclaimed, as Duke roared his rage at being confined.

  
“Holy fire,” Dean answered. “It’ll hold him for a minute—long enough for us to get him under control.”

  
He reached into his back pocket and took out a set of manacles.

  
“You think handcuffs will hold him?” Jordan mocked.

  
“These will,” Cas explained as Dean grabbed Duke from behind, pinning his arms down as Sam managed to fasten the shackles around his wrists. "They have been engraved in Enochian binding spells."

  
“They’re angel cuffs,” Sam panted, as Duke jerked his arms trying to separate them, but failed. He glared at the group, his eyes blazing.

  
“Damn, Tabris _has_ gotten awfully close,” Crowley commented. “But that Grace he’s been force-feeding him isn’t gonna last forever. Will it, Castiel?” he asked sweetly.

  
“Shut up, Crowley,” Dean and Cas chorused.

  
“Now for them,” Sam said, and turned to look back at Jordan and Kirk, but they had vanished.

  
“Looks like dear old Dad’s called them back to the homestead,” Crowley said. “They’ll be back soon enough.”

  
“Is that barrier you built going to hold?” Dean asked Rowena and Alice.

  
“You’d have to have a _team_ of archangels to smash that down,” Rowena said.

  
“Well, no danger of that,” Sam exhaled. “Can you fix him—like you did Dean that time?”

  
“What’s been done ta him is entirely different than what happened to Dean, Samuel,” Rowena protested.

  
“Please,” Nathan pleaded his eyes bright. “If you can do anything to help him—“

  
“I can try,” Rowena sighed. “No promises—if it doesn’t work—“

  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Sam said, and glanced at Nathan, who put his arms around Paige. “If we have to—“he trailed off, but Nathan nodded understanding, his eyes on his friend, who at the moment was glaring at him as though he’d cheerfully rip his heart out.

  
“If it comes to that,” Nathan repeated. “But we try everything else first, right?”

  
“Right,” Dean said.


	14. 14

_**14** _

 

After they had managed to wrestle Duke into the Bronco, they headed back to Alice’s home, where Sam quickly drew up an angel trap and they situated a chair in the middle, where they put Duke.

  
“Now stay,” Dean ordered. Duke seethed angrily but said nothing.

  
“He can’t leave that?” Nathan asked.

  
“Not unless someone lets him out,” Dean replied. “This is one time that Grace he’s been given is working in our favor.”

  
He glanced over to where Rowena and Alice were talking with Crowley, who said something to Alice. She nodded emphatically before reaching deep into her apothecary, and he headed over to them, with Cas joining him.

  
“So what’s the game plan?” Dean questioned.

  
“Fergus has had a rather genius idea,” Rowena said.

  
“Really,” Castiel deadpanned.

  
“First time for everything,” Sam commented.

  
“Do you want to hear the plan or not?” Crowley answered briskly.

  
“I’m all ears,” Dean cracked.

  
“Seeing as Tabris has been elbows-deep in Duke’s nut, the only way to reach him will be to connect with him—from the inside.”

  
“You mean possess him,” Dean said.

  
“ _Define_ possess,” Nathan put in, his tone worried.

  
“Meaning that I leave my body, and enter his,” Crowley explained. “I may be able to reach part of his psyche that is undamaged by Tabris’ memory erasure program.”

  
“It—could work,” Sam said slowly. “That’s how Crowley did me in order for me to cast out Gadreel.”

  
“Who’s Gadreel?” Dwight asked.

  
“Another long story for another day,” Dean sighed.

  
“You seem to have quite a few of those,” Nathan noted.

  
“You do _not_ have my permission to enter me, Demon,” Duke said fiercely from where he was situated.

  
“I don’t need your bloody permission, mate,” Crowley responded. “Demon, remember?”

  
“And while he’s doing that, Alice will be keeping in contact with him psychically,” Rowena explained, while Alice stirred some herbs and bits of dried root that she had placed into a pot.

  
“What is that you’re putting in there?” Dwight asked. “Magic mushrooms?”

  
“This is _Trichocereus pachanoi,_ or vision cactus,” Alice told him. "San Pedro cactus."

  
“It’s peyote,” McHugh grinned.

  
“Actually, it’s a cousin to mescaline,” Alice spoke, finishing straining the tea. “It’s also said to open communications with Heaven.”

  
“You mean we could actually hear Angel Radio if we take this stuff?” Dean asked. “We might have to lay in a stash of that at the bunker.”

  
“I don’t know as we’d hear it, we’re still humans, after all—but we’ll be able to hone in on whatever angel vibe Duke’s giving off, maybe draw him out,” Alice said. “So which of you will be joining me?”

  
“What?” Nathan asked blankly.

  
“Ideally, it should be you, Chief Wuornos—you knew Duke better than anyone,” Alice explained. “However, you don’t strike me as being an experienced dream traveler.”

  
“I’ll do it, I’ve done it before,” Dean said.

  
“No, I’ll go—do it, whatever,” Nathan answered.

  
“Then I’m goin’ too,” Dean told him.

  
“Going to be quite crowded in his noggin,” Crowley remarked. “Well, no point in just standing about, get to it,” he finished, settling into an easy chair. “Now—no messing about with me while I’m out, or I’m going to be very angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry,” he finished slyly, and threw his head back, a thick cloud of black smoke exiting his mouth and wormed its way through Duke’s nose and mouth before he sagged forward in the chair.

  
“Crowley? Are you in there?” Sam asked cautiously, and Duke’s head snapped up.

  
“Course I’m in here,” Duke said crossly, in a strange accent. “You lot coming or what?”

  
Nathan, Paige and Dwight glanced at one another. Out of everything they’d been through in Haven, this was far past anyone’s depth of experience.

  
Rowena finished drawing the barrier, and Alice, Dean, and Nathan settled into the circle, each taking a small cup of the brew that Alice had made.

  
“Sam, you keep us safe, you hear?” Dean said, and Sam nodded.

  
“Don’t trip too hard,” he replied, and Dean chugged the cup, grimacing.

  
“Ugh-that tasted like an old jock strap,” he griped, shaking his head. Nathan too downed his cup, grimacing, Alice quickly following suit.

  
“Join hands,” Rowena instructed. “Hold onto each other, so ye don’t get lost.”

  
“How would I get los—“Dean began to say, and then stopped, marveling at the way the walls seemed to be simultaneously melting and pulsing around him.

  
“Dean, are you okay?” Sam seemed to ask from a great distance. Dean craned his neck to look up at him, and wheezed out a laugh. Sam appeared to be vacillating, growing taller and shorter like a wavy line on an oscilloscope.

  
“Sammy, you look sooo weird,” he giggled.

  
“The tea is taking effect,” he heard Cas say, and he swiveled his head to look at him, gasping.

  
“Cas, you’re glowing!” Dean exclaimed. “Like you’re irr-irr-iriateded or something.”

  
“I see it too,” Nathan enthused.

  
“Dean, do not look at me for too long,” Cas warned.

  
“It’s really kinda beautiful, though,” Dean breathed.

  
“He’s right—we can’t look at him for long, it’ll burn out our retinas,” Alice said. “Focus on Duke—focus on engaging with him mentally.”

  
They turned their attention toward the man in the chair and suddenly it felt as though they’d been whisked into a darkened room where a large door appeared before them.

  
“Where are we?” Nathan asked, still clutching Alice’s hand.

  
The door opened, and Crowley stood on the other side.

  
“Come on in,” he said. “Welcome to La Cabesa del Crocker,” he continued.

  
The three walked in behind him, seeing a corridor that seemed to stretch on forever, each with doors, all heavily locked, with angelic glyphs etched onto them.

  
“What is this?” Nathan breathed. "It reminds me of the Barn."

"What Barn?" Dean questioned. 

"Meaning how Paige was done for so many years. Tabris has modeled this after that--from Duke's memory of it. These are Duke’s memory rooms—as you can see, Tabris has sealed them off,” Crowley gestured.

  
“Not for long,” Dean answered, and took out his pocket knife. He cut a gash through the sigil, and the corridor seemed to shake.

* * *

  
Duke jerked and gasped, and Dwight and Sam went over to him.

  
“Hey, Duke—are you all right?” Sam asked cautiously.

  
Duke opened his eyes and looked up at him strangely, almost like a little kid.

  
“I didn’t tell anything, I swear,” he pleaded. “I didn’t tell them! Please don’t lock me in there again!”

  
Dwight exhaled, shaking his head.

  
“Must be from when he was a kid,” he said in a low voice. “Duke—didn’t have the best of childhoods.”

  
“I can sympathize,” Sam said softly. “But this isn’t what we need. Rowena, is there any way for them to tell what memories they’re releasing?”

  
“They must be close to the entrance, which would mean those are his childhood memories,” Rowena told them. “Further back would likely see better results.”

  
She moved over to Duke, placing her hands on his head.

  
“Move further down the corridor,” she called out.

* * *

  
_Move further down the corridor_ , they seemed to hear a ghostly voice echo from somewhere.

  
“Was—was that Rowena?” Dean asked.

  
“That must’ve been something from his early life we released,” Crowley said. “We need to go further in.”

  
They moved deeper into the corridor, and Crowley glanced about them as they walked.

  
“You know, Duke was on the fast-track to come to me for a long while,” he began. “He was a hell of a hustler in his past—he’d have made an excellent crossroads demon. Unfortunately, he turned it all around to be a ‘better’ man,” he finished. “Your friend Audrey had a great deal to do with that, Nathan.”

  
“Oh, boo-hoo for you,” Dean said sarcastically. “You know, further in means harder to get back out if we have to run for it.”

  
“That’s the risk you have to take if you want him back,” Crowley shrugged.

  
“Why would we have to run for it?” Nathan questioned.

  
“Ever heard the term 'flood of memories'?” Crowley told him. “That’s what it means.”

  
“It’s a risk for you too, isn’t it?” Nathan asked as they walked.

  
“All Crowley has to do is smoke back out and he’s home free,” Dean remarked.

  
They moved deeper still. Here, the doors were heavily bolted, with multiple sigils etched into them.

  
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Crowley noted. “This is the stuff Tabris _really_ doesn’t want him to remember.”

  
Dean began to mar the sigils when they heard a faint voice.

  
“Hello? I-is someone there?"

  
“Duke?” Nathan’s head snapped around. “Duke, where are you?”

  
“I…don’t know,” the voice answered. “Nathan, Nathan is that you?”

  
“Try and find which door the voice is coming from,” Dean instructed.

  
“We should stay together,” Alice warned. “It could be a trick that Tabris has rigged.”

  
“She’s right,” Crowley noted. “He’d have to know that we’d try anything to get him back.”

  
“Nathan, _please_ , help me,” Duke’s voice pleaded faintly, and Nathan looked deeply aggrieved. Dean caught his arm just before he moved away.

  
“They’re right—I know it sucks, but stick with us,” he urged Nathan. “We’re nearly there if Tabris is trying tricks like this. Remember what Cas said, Tabris is the Angel of Free Will. He knows how to trick us by playing on emotions. Just hang in there.”

"If you get lost in here--it looks like one long corridor, but there are many twists and turns, and you'll get so lost that you'll never come out," Crowley said, gesturing to his right, where another seemingly endless corridor was stretching out. In the distance, they could hear what sounded like Duke pleading for help, always just out of their reach.

  
“It’ll go faster if we each take a door,” Alice spoke, drawing out a knife. “We move down in twos, each with our backs touching each other. When you’re finished destroying the sigils on your door, wait until everyone has finished, then we move together. Understood?”

  
“Got it,” Nathan said, putting his back against Dean’s, and Alice put hers to Crowley’s, each scarring through the sigils on the doors.

* * *

  
Duke shuddered and jerked in the chair, Dwight and Sam’s hands holding him steady.

  
“What’s happening to him?” Paige cried.

  
“They’re breaking down the barriers in his mind,” Rowena said. “They must be getting close. Hurry up, boyos, he can’t take much more.”

* * *

  
“We’re nearly at the end,” Dean noted. It was growing ever brighter in the corridor, and they moved to the last set of doors, and readied to scarify them, when Tabris suddenly appeared.

  
“No!” he shouted, and raised his angel blade, but Crowley was faster, and drove his own knife deep into Tabris’ chest.

  
“Noooo,” Tabris wailed and dissipated into a bright light.

  
“Did you kill him?” Nathan asked.

  
“Sadly—no,” Crowley answered.

  
“That was just Tabris’ influence over Duke,” Dean said, and the corridor began to rumble, the ground shaking beneath their feet. All along the corridor, they could see the angelic glyphs on the doors flash and spark before they fizzled out. 

  
“We should go,” Crowley told them, and vanished.

  
“You heard the man, let’s move!” Dean shouted, as they began to run back to where they’d started from.

* * *

 

 

Duke jerked, thick black smoke emerging from his mouth and going once again into Crowley’s body. Duke sagged again and then snapped awake, and looking around him, spotted Paige.

  
“Audrey,” he breathed, and Paige knelt down and put her arms around him. Duke attempted to return the hug, but found his hands shackled.

  
“What am I under arrest for?” he asked, and Paige smiled.

  
“Welcome back, Duke,” Dwight answered, unable to keep the grin from his face.

  
“Hey Squatch,” Duke half-grinned at him.

* * *

 

"The door's fading!" Alice cried as they pelted down the corridor. 

"We're gonna jump for it. Ready-- _go_!" Dean shouted and the three of them sprang forward.

* * *

  
Over in the circle, Rowena passed her hand over the faces of the three, still deep in a drugged trance.

  
“Hold on a minute,” Paige said and hurried over to Nathan while Sam unfastened the cuffs from Duke’s wrists. “Is he all right?”

  
“I don’t know,” Rowena replied.

  
Dean took a deep exhale of air, opening his eyes, Nathan and Alice also stirring into consciousness.

  
“Hey—you okay?” Paige smiled down at him.

  
“I am now,” Nathan exhaled.

  
“Well, that was—not fun,” Dean grunted, sitting up groggily.

  
“Yes, but you’ve broken Tabris’ hold on him, that’s the important thing,” Cas said, and looked over at Duke. “He’s human again.”

  
“Human? You mean alive human?” Nathan asked.

  
Cas nodded. “I sense no more Grace inside of him.”

  
“That’s-that’s good, right?”

  
“That’s good. However, it doesn’t mean that Tabris will not try again,” Cas warned. “So we should find a way to close that thinny for good.”

  
“I think we might have it,” Rowena said. “But it will be a fight to the finish.”

  
“Just the kind we like,” Dean commented.


	15. Chapter 15

_**15** _

 

The following morning, Cas and Gloria both checked Duke over carefully.

  
“You feeling okay, kitten?” she questioned him.

  
“None the worse for wear,” Duke replied. “And I’m glad to see you again, Gloria.”

  
Gloria leaned in and kissed his forehead.

  
“Glad to see you too,” she said. I’m surprised, but glad.”

  
“Now all we have to do is explain how I’m back yet again,” Duke sighed.

  
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Gloria answered, seeing Cas’ concerned expression. “You seem to be in pretty good shape,” she finished. “I imagine Nathan and Paige want to see you, so why don’t you go on out? I’ll be along in a bit.”

  
“All right,” Duke said, and finished buttoning his shirt.

  
“I—just wish to speak with Dr. Verano a moment. I will be there shortly,” Cas told him. Duke nodded, and departed the room.

  
“I saw that look on your face,” Gloria told Cas. “You’re not telling him everything.”

  
“I do not understand,” Cas puzzled.

  
“I see it in your face,” Gloria answered. “There’s some big bad you’re holding out on us regarding Duke. Have you told him? Or at least told your bossy friend and his hippie brother?”

  
“Have you told Nathan and the others about the lump in your breast?” Cas asked, and Gloria blanched.

  
“This isn’t about me,” she said at length. “Out with it, Angel.”

  
“Duke—I’m not sure if he will survive,” Cas began slowly. “The Grace he was given has faded, but the fact remains is that he was given angel blood.”

  
“You think it could hurt him?” she asked.

  
“I do not know. This is uncharted territory for all of us,” Cas told her, pacing the room. “I—I don’t know how the blood will react with the aether imprisoned in his body. Crowley claims that the aether on the other side of the thinny wants it—wants him,” he finished. “I am not so sure that the idea of allowing Duke to go through is a bad one.”

  
“Saw you added yet another member to your little traveling entourage,” Gloria continued. “Crowley’s the little English guy who dresses like Johnny Cash?”

  
“Crowley’s Scottish, actually,” Cas told her. “And do not be fooled by Crowley’s appearance—he is as crafty and cunning as any demon. Rowena is his mother.”

  
“She’s his _mother_? She looks damn good for her age then,” Gloria quipped, and then sobered, blinking hard a few times. “If you can, see that Duke sticks around for a while, huh?”

  
“I will do all I can,” Cas replied solemnly.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yer rather deep in thought today, Fergus,” Rowena commented casually, poring over a text Alice had left out.

  
“Not now, Mother,” Crowley answered, a bit snappishly.

  
“Thinking on how to win that handsome young man over to yer side, are ye?” she pressed. “I saw it in yer eyes when ye saw him—ye want ta know what’s on the other side of that hole as much as Tabris does, don’t you?”

  
“Not so much him—that aether stuff,” Crowley replied, thinking. “It’s not that different from Leviathans—only the _wielder_ controls the aether, not the aether itself.”

  
“Ye mean it has magical properties,” Rowena said, warming to the idea. “Could be quite a boon, couldn’t it?”

  
“I was there when these Troubles, as they call them, first started,” Crowley told her. “Mara Cross was a master spell crafter-whatever her species is on her side, she seemed to use a combination of science and magic to control the aether. They make our lot look like shade-tree mechanics. I for one would like to know a bit more about that.”

  
“That’s rather insulting, Fergus, callin’ yer mother a shade-tree mechanic,” Rowena groused. “But I understand what yer drivin’ at. But what do ye want te do about it?”

  
“Just—don’t be in such a hurry to rush to Duke’s aid to rid him of the aether,” Crowley confided. “Stall the Winchesters and the others for a while—just until I get a better handle on how things work with aether. That isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

  
“Ye know that Tabris is gonna try fer him again, doncha?” Rowena questioned.

  
“I’m sure he will,” Crowley said.

* * *

 

 

“Dr. Verano has given him a clean bill of health,” Cas told Sam and Dean when they were alone.

  
“But you’re not so sure about it,” Dean said.

  
“No. The presence of the angel blood in Duke together with the combination of the aether may make him unstable,” Castiel confided. “I could likely alter it, render it inert. But it is a double-edged sword--if the blood’s power is stripped, he may either return to his spectral state—“

  
“Meaning he’ll die again,” Dean said and Cas nodded.

“Or?” Sam asked.

  
“Or it could leave him wide open to other supernatural influences.”

  
“Meaning Crowley could take control over him too,” Sam put in.

  
“That as well,” Cas stated.

  
“Yeah, I saw him lookin’ at Duke like he was the big box under the tree at Christmas,” Dean muttered.

  
“What about all the warding that Tabris had on him?” Sam pressed.

  
“As I told you, the warding was drawing much of its power from the Grace he was given. When it was gone—“

  
“So was the warding,” Dean finished, and Cas nodded.

  
“For the most part; Tabris could still use it to keep track of him. I may be able to alter it now; I could try, but I can make no guarantees of success.”

  
“What we need to do is to find out the exact steps they took to strip the aether away from the people of Haven in the first place,” Sam said. “Maybe we could work from that.”

  
“I asked—according to Dwight, they rebuilt an inter-dimensional aether trap,” Dean spoke. “It acted like a kind of prison for Mara—while she was there, it kept the aether nullified. When she came out, it reactivated.”

  
“But Paige isn’t Mara anymore,” Sam pointed out. “So we don’t even know that confining her would even work.”

  
“Or—we confine Duke to it,” Dean said. “Think on it, Sam—he’s the one real tie to that Void that Tabris has. If he’s gone, his Angel project goes right out the window.”

  
“What about Jordan and Kirk?”

  
“They’re just the ants at the picnic—and Duke’s the picnic,” Dean answered. “I think Tabris resurrected them deliberately, in order to act as his security guards for Duke, keep the others away from him while Tabris worked him over.” He thought a moment. “He used Duke’s own memories of them against him.”

  
“Now that his influence over Duke is gone—“

  
“It won’t surprise me if they are too,” Dean said somberly.

  
“There is something else that you should know,” Cas said. “It concerns Dr. Verano.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alice, Rowena and Crowley stood outside of the barrier that the two women had created the day before.

  
“Very solid,” Crowley remarked, jerking a hand back from where he’d been zapped attempting to touch the thinny.

  
“Hands off means hands off, Crowley,” Dean spoke, striding toward the thinny. “We figured you’d be up here poking around. Any sign of Tabris?”

  
“None,” Rowena said. “It’s almost as if he and his angel friends packed it in and went back to Heaven.”

  
“An interesting side note—I went by the house where you recovered Duke—found what was left of the other two,” he answered briskly.

  
“Messy?” Dean asked.

  
“Nothing a good sweeping-up wouldn’t cure,” Crowley waved dismissively.

  
“Which means?”

  
“Tabris is either going to throw in the towel, or he’s going to go all-out on his next attempt,” Crowley snapped.

  
“Hey, dial down the attitude,” Dean ordered sternly.

  
“Aren’t you curious about what’s over there?” Crowley burst out. “Think of it—their civilization is _hundreds_ of years ahead of this one! What accomplishments might they have achieved that we could only dream of, eh?”

  
“Yeah, and if they even halfway thought this civilization could handle it, we’d be right there with them,” Sam pointed out. “So maybe it’s better that we don’t attempt to access their world.”

  
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Nathan’s Bronco pull up, and he and Paige and Dwight emerge.

  
“What’s going on?” Nathan asked. “Your little stunt with the Rev has all of Haven in an uproar. They think the Troubles really are back, and it’s getting harder to get people to believe they’re not.”

  
“We came to ascertain that the barriers were holding,” Alice said calmly. “And we were just discussing the pros and cons of accessing the Void.”

  
“The Void is inhospitable to humans,” Nathan stated. “I was in there for about six hours, and it almost finished me off.”

  
“What’s it like?” Crowley asked, unable to resist himself.

  
“It’s like being in really deep woods. It’s nothing—there’s no sun; as if it’s continuously overcast. You have no sense of time in there—and watches and compasses don’t work either. There are trees, but no birds or any signs of animal life; scrub grass, rocks, and aether, and no one, and I mean no one else at all,” Nathan told them.

  
“Sounds like Purgatory,” Dean remarked.

  
“The other side considers it a punishment to send people into there,” Nathan replied.

  
“Maybe it _is_ Purgatory,” Sam said. “Well, how did the people from the other side get here from there?”

  
“They used a particular stone-it helped to draw them through the Void,” Paige spoke.

  
“What kind of stone?” Crowley asked.

  
“Nothing we could find over here, I’m sure,” Dean answered sharply.

  
“This—this is a ring made from their stone,” Nathan said, and pulled a necklace out. On a chain was suspended what looked to be a man’s ring. “It belonged to my dad that was given to him by a friend,” he went on.

  
They gathered closer to look at the small row of stones in the ring.

  
“It looks like fulgurite,” Sam said. “I’m not a geologist by any means, but it kinda looks like it—but it’s harder.”

  
“Hm,” Crowley grunted, his mind ticking. He’d noticed the flash of the thinny when Nathan had pulled that ring from his shirt.

  
_Not fulgurite, you Moose_ , Crowley thought to himself. _It’s merkabite—if tiny chips like those make that thinny dance—what would the bloody big chunk I’ve got do to it?_

  
“Sounds fascinating,” Crowley drawled. “I do have other irons in the fire, so I’m going to go,” he finished, and vanished.

  
“I can’t get used to that,” Nathan shook his head.

  
“I guess we’re sort of used to it,” Sam confessed. “Hey—where’s your friend Duke?”

  
“He was in town meeting with Castiel,” Nathan replied. “Then he was supposed to be back at the house.”

 

* * *

 

 

No sooner had Cas left Duke to meet up with Sam and Dean, than Duke heard a voice behind him.

  
“Hello, Duke,” Crowley spoke, pocketing the stone he’d collected.

  
“Where’d you come from?” Duke asked warily.

  
“Well, you already know the answer to that question,” Crowley replied politely. “Besides, you never had the juice to smite me anyway. Especially now, since your Grace has gone bye-bye. So have your two guardians—I guess Tabris didn’t feel they were important enough to keep on the payroll.”

  
“They’re dead?” Duke asked.

  
“They were already dead, but yes, Tabris pulled the plug on their existence,” Crowley replied. “Which begs the question—how long it will be until he decides to do the same to you?”

  
Duke didn’t reply, and Crowley moved a bit closer.

  
“There’s where I come in,” he smiled. “I think you and I could be of mutual benefit to one another.”


	16. Chapter 16

 

Duke crossed his arms, and gazed steadily at the little man across from him.

  
“What is it that makes you think that I’d want to help you?” Duke asked. “Y’know, I spent time talking with Castiel, and he told me about you,” he continued.

  
“Did he now?” Crowley answered. “I could tell you a few things about him as well. What did he say, exactly?”

  
“He said that I shouldn’t trust you, among other things,” Duke replied, and cocked his head slightly. “What’s your interest in all this?”

  
“I’m a businessman, Duke—you should be able to understand that,” Crowley told him. “I also know that Tabris isn’t going to let this drop. You might have lost your Grace, but that doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t have designs on you."

He paused, studying Duke, who bore a neutral expression.

"You know that too,” he continued, strolling over and pouring himself a Scotch and tipped the bottle at Duke, who nodded, and poured a second drink, handing Duke the glass. “You feel it in all that bloody warding he’s got on you.”

  
“You know about that,” Duke said evenly.

  
“You’ve got some serious warding going on there,” Crowley said. “I almost didn’t make it over the fence into your head—but I know a few back-alleys, so to speak. A lesser demon couldn’t have managed it.”

  
“But you’re the king of demons,” Duke replied.

  
“I’m the King of Hell—which, yes, I suppose, does make me the king of demons,” Crowley answered.

  
“So what does that make Lucifer?”

  
“Lucifer is not a demon, he’s an angel—an archangel, to be exact. He’s the _creator_ of demons. But I didn’t come to here to discuss him,” Crowley answered briskly. “I came to talk to you about how we could help one another.”

  
“I don’t see how I could be a help to you,” Duke puzzled.

  
“Well, one, I think that Mother and her new friend Alice could do something about all that warding. Help break Tabris’ hold over you,” Crowley began.

  
“And end up giving it to you, no doubt,” Duke muttered, taking a swig from his glass.

  
“Not at all,” Crowley protested. “I’m trying to _help_ you. I know what it is to be made to dance on a leash like a trained monkey,” he continued, getting a glance from Duke. “I’m here to help you break that. If Tabris wants you, all he’s got to do is snap his fingers and you’ll be his lab rat all over again.”

  
“Say you break his hold over me,” Duke said, thinking. “What happens after that?”

  
“What do you want to happen? You’ll be _normal_ again. Bet you’ve almost forgotten what that feels like—no more reaction to Troubled blood, no overwhelming urge to kill to indulge that high,” Crowley remarked.

Duke's eyebrows arched in surprise at his comment.

“Bet you thought I didn’t know about that,” Crowley said slyly. “You never told Nathan and Audrey about that struggle, did you? How _hard_ it was for you to not end up like Wade and your father—and time and time again they asked you to use that Trouble for their benefit. And you and Nathan--I know Sam and Dean have a somewhat tempestuous relationship at times, but you two are something else altogether."

  
“I _did_ tell them,” Duke said fiercely.

  
“Yes, right before they _murdered_ you,” Crowley retorted. “Not exactly what I would have termed a loving friendship. I’m sure they do care for you,” he added, seeing the gathering storm clouds in Duke’s face. “But it shouldn’t have had to come to that, should it?"

  
“No, it shouldn’t. But I can’t change the past, and you can’t either,” Duke spoke. “So what do you want to do about the here and now?”

  
“Well, when I was out at the thinny site earlier, Nathan showed me a ring that he claimed could help navigate the way through the Void,” Crowley informed him.

  
“Nathan would never give that ring up to you,” Duke told him.

  
“I don’t need his bloody ring,” Crowley stated, and drew out the stone. “I’ve got this—it’s the stone that does the work, not the ring.”

  
“That’s a pretty good-sized rock,” Duke remarked. “Say we use it. Then what happens?”

  
“You and I make our sojourn into the Void. Once in there, I’m willing to wager that Tabris won’t be able to detect you, and just maybe, we can break all that warding on you without any interference from him,” he continued. “We come back out, you won’t be at his beck and call any longer, Tabris packs it in and goes back to Heaven,” he finished. “What do you say, Duke? Shall we give it a go?”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam, Dean and Nathan watched Alice and Rowena drive away before heading toward their respective vehicles.

  
“I don’t like it,” Dean muttered.

  
“I’m not terribly crazy about the situation either,” Nathan remarked. “What were they _doing_ out here?”

  
“Crowley’s up to something,” Sam put in. “I saw the look in his eyes when you pulled that ring out.”

  
“Well, will the sigils you painted on the house keep him out too?” Nathan asked. “He’s not getting his hands on this ring.”

  
“We’ll add a few more wards,” Dean told him. “Then we’ll go find him and wring the truth out of him.”

  
“What we really need is Cas—get him to keep track of Tabris’ movements,” Sam said. “I just can’t believe he’s going to give up on Duke so easily. Not when he’s that close to achieving his goal.”

  
“About that,” Nathan answered slowly. “Can’t he do _something_ to help Duke?”

  
“Cas told you—Tabris is a higher-up angel than him. Short of an archangel dropping into our lap—“

  
“The only one around is Lucifer, and we _sure_ don’t need his help,” Dean growled.

  
“We’ll find a way. We’ll keep looking,” Sam assured Nathan, a friendly hand on his shoulder. “We’re not going to give up on him—just like you won’t.”

  
“No,” Nathan replied. “I won’t give up on him. No matter what.”

 

* * *

 

 

After Sam, Dean and Nathan departed, Tabris and another angel emerged from the woods. He could see the wall Rowena and Alice had created, guarding the thinny, shimmering energy bands intensely crackling across the small hole in the fabric of reality. Humans could not see it and could still pass through the area unencumbered; but any supernatural being attempting to breach the hole would receive a most harsh welcome.

  
“We cannot penetrate that, not without more help,” the angel accompanying him spoke.

  
“I am aware of that,” Tabris said.

  
“So what do you propose we do about it?”

  
“We fetch Miss Morgan and bring her back here,” Tabris answered.

  
“It would require both witches to destroy the wall,” the angel replied. “And Rowena MacLeod is—“

  
“Too well-protected—if not by Crowley, then almost certainly the Winchesters,” Tabris finished for him. “We only need Alice to weaken the wall. I will do the rest.”

  
“Would she do it?”

  
“She will if she knows what is good for her—and for Haven.”


End file.
